


Shades of Lavellan

by nini28326



Series: Shades of Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nini28326/pseuds/nini28326
Summary: Varric Tethras, master storyteller and mastermind, accepts a contract to mediate and coordinate the transfer of an art collection owned by a highly influential Orlesian Dowager and it all goes to hell. Now in debt to the Dowager, he is forced to entertain her social circles with stories in recompense. In the worst way possible. Revealing the truth of Lalinaya Lavellan's love life, and her many indiscretions, that had always been hidden from the world.Story notes and clarification of plot synopsis revealed in Chapter (2).





	1. Prologue

    

 

 

“This is boring.” sighed a disgruntled noblewoman as she tossed her long blond hair back over her shoulder. “Madame Antoinette,” she continued, looking over at the Dowager who sat across the room on a plush armchair. ”You said Master Tethras was an excellent storyteller...”

 

“And he is,” she replied, her regal voice echoing across the room for all the ladies attending her small salon to hear.

 

“I fail to see such greatness.” the noblewoman muttered.

 

“If my story displeases you...” spoke Varric respectfully. “I could tell another. Something that might interest you, perhaps?”

 

“A request?” she countered.

 

“If you would like to make one, decide upon a subject or tone, I am sure I can find a story that would mirror what you desire,” he answered willingly. “So, please.” he urged, offering his hand in her direction.  

 

Raising her finely manicured hand to her lips, and tapping her chin gently, the noblewoman contemplated for only a moment on the possibilities before suddenly smiling with a mischievous expression.

 

“You speak of the former Inquisitor Lavellan often, in your stories...” she started slowly, gradually gaining momentum. “And of her accolades and adventures... Religious strife, war, thrilling political intrigue, a god-like struggle against good and evil...they are all quite exciting...”

 

“But?” questioned Varric leadingly.

 

“You speak of nothing in regards to her personal life,” she concluded.

 

“’Tis true.” spoke up another noblewoman in agreement. “We know nothing of her romantic entanglements.”

 

“Yes. It was all the buzz in Val Royeaux, for months, after the unmasking of Duke Gaspard and his treacherous sister at the ball.” added another noblewoman with dark, wavy hair. “Whether or not she was involved with someone.”

 

“I remember.” piped up another. “Surrounded by all those virile men that accompanied her, it was a question upon everyone’s lips. Was it that regal apostate elf, that hulking monster of a Qunari, that suave Tevinter Magister, or that stunning and masculine Commander? Or someone else. Who did she fancy most?”

 

“The rumors alone were the talk of the town.” the Dowager added offhandedly. “The speculations were endless.”

 

Varric frowned gently.

 

“So, you wish to hear of her love life.” he breathed out with disappointment lacing his tone.

 

A cacophony of yes’s answered back as each noblewoman looked on enthusiastically.

 

“Something scandalous.” added another. “Always makes for great stories!”

 

Varric shook his head.

 

‘I guess I have no choice.’ he thought, glancing sidelong at the Dowager who quickly gave him a knowing look that inferred he had no right to refuse such a request.

 

“Very well.” he acquiesced.

 

 

 

‘I hope you can forgive me, Lalinaya.’


	2. The beauty once unseen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested, Varric begins his story. Retelling of the day that he truly saw The Real Lalinaya Lavellan for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a congruent set of 'One-shot-ish' stories that tie into each event from the last. My Inquisitor (unlike my Sarina Lavellan in The Guardians of Bellanaris) is NOT an all-knowing, mysterious, woman with ties to deep Elvhen bloodlines. This Inquisitor is a mysterious, sly, and seductive woman who -unlike most elven women of her age -is very confident in everything. From her abilities as a mage to her decisions in the realm of politics and morality. But, she has one personality 'flaw' that makes her disliked around most -a pariah- especially to her clan and to most humans. 
> 
> She's an openly sexual creature. And, what I mean by that, is that she a 'sex-positive' woman who carries no shame in flirting with or bedding anyone she deems worthy. No matter who they are. Monogamy is a word, and an ideal, that does not exist her vocabulary. 
> 
> With that being said, a few warnings are necessary. In this story, Lalinaya is set to have physical and emotional relationships (including but not limited to, just sex) with multiple characters. There will be some jealousy included, but not so much to warrant concern, as I intend to build this story with the notion that all characters who will become involved with her (whether in a deep relationship or just a few one-night stands) will be accepting of her own proclivities willingly. It is a: 'I'll take what she's willing to give and be grateful for it.' type of scenario. 
> 
> Grammar Note: Any bulk paragraphs written in Italics (unless otherwise specified) are words spoken by Varric as he's telling the story. The story of Lalinaya is written in the third person from Varric's omniscient POV (sort of).

 

 

 

 

_“In the world of Thedas, no other could compare to the woman I met that day, upon a snowy mountaintop, all those years ago._

_With deep green eyes; the color of the lush forest of the Emerald Graves; that could pierce through the heart of you with every simple glance. Long wavy hair; blacker than the deepest obsidian; that fell down her frame like water and swayed with every subtle movement like it had a life of its own. Lips, plush and ever-so inviting, that would shame even the most beautiful of blooms and skin, flawless and perfect, as pale as untouched winter snow, Lalinaya Lavellan was an unprecedented beauty that exuded wisdom, strength, determination, confidence, kindness, honesty and a passion for all things. No matter how extraordinary or mundane._

_Like water to the parched, honey to the bee, moth to the flame, and the sun to the dawn, all were helplessly drawn to her –without restraint, apprehension, or protest._

_Ensnared by all that she was, would be, and could be._

_Never realizing it until it was far, far too late.”_

 

 

 

Three full days had passed since the Prisoner and The Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast, had taken the mountain pass and saved a missing patrol of scouts. Three full days had passed since they had entered the ruined remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And three full days had passed since the Prisoner attempted to seal the Breach.

 

It was mid-morning. The mountain air, not as blustery as the night before, had calmed but carried with it a chill colder than normal and a light sprinkle of intermittent -yet waning- snowfall. The town of Haven, a bustle of activity, went about its business as if nothing were amiss. Even with the Breach looming in the sky above, the threat that demons still roamed the wilderness unchecked, the town’s occupants knew that food still needed to be gathered, and cooked; clothes still needed to made, cleaned, and mended; weapons and armor still needed to be crafted and maintained; and skills still needed to be practiced and mastered. Handling the daily needs of the soldiers, remaining townspeople, and the few refugees that had sought shelter from the chaos caused by the war between the Rebel Mages and the Rogue Templars, the people of Haven did their best with what they had. Content in the knowledge that, for now, they were safe.

 

Varric, with his trusty crossbow strapped at his back, stood quietly atop of the stairs of the bailey’s mid-level, next to a small hut near the Apothecary, and looked out over the small retaining wall, across the small village, and out past the main gate. Taking in the scenic mountains in the distance with a subtle appreciation for how the snow seemed to glitter in splotches as the sun peeked between the fair-weather clouds as they drifted across the sky and how the world reflected a deceptive air of peace. As if all was right in the world at that moment.

 

Feeling the approach of another, moments later, Varric took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Hoping that he could, somehow, internalize the calm he felt radiating off the scenery into his own heart and readying him for the conversation that would quickly follow.

 

“Master Tethras.” came a deep, stoic voice.

 

“Solas.” Varric nodded, in recognition, as the apostate elf stepped up to his side.

 

“You’ve been here for quite some time,” observed Solas, his voice laced with a faint hint of curious questioning.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Concerns?” questioned Solas, subtly prodding for Varric to explain further.

 

“A great many,” replied Varric.

 

“Just taking a moment to find a little peace in all the chaos of the last few days, I suppose.”

 

“That is...understandable. It is, quite often, hard to find respite in time like these.” Solas agreeably commented. “It a wise man that recognizes the need for such things, from time to time, and actively seeks out such reflection.”

 

“So they say.” the dwarf replied.

 

“You disagree?” questioned Solas.

 

“Not particularly,” Varric answered. “It just...sometimes self-reflection can be more a detriment than a boon. A wise man _may_ know that such reflection is necessary, but it is a smart man who knows that such reflection is just a small piece in the grander scheme of things.”

 

“True enough.” chuckled Solas.

 

“Has there been any news?” questioned Varric, steering the conversation to a more interesting topic. “How does our newest addition fare?”

 

“Her anchor is stable for now. The expenditure of energy used to temporarily close the Breach, however, has weakened her substantially. More so than the initial shock of being expelled from the Fade.”

 

“The weakness has compounded then.”

 

“Yes. Though she showed no initial signs. Hiding it well.” continued Solas. “The drain on her body was significant enough to warrant these past days of her unconsciousness.”

 

“She is recovering well, then?”

 

“As well as can be expected. There is a limit to which we can determine such things at this time. She is a naturally healthy woman. More so than most. And, in the past few days, her color has returned as her systems have seemed to have found their way back into balance.”

 

“But...Questions still abound. And until she finds consciousness they will continue to grow.”

 

“Do you expect that she will wake soon?” questioned Varric.

 

“It is my hope,” replied Solas with a slight smile.

 

“You have hope in her?” countered Varric, a teasing lacing his tone.

 

“Of course, but don’t we all?” Solas replied. “After all, to our knowledge, she is the only one with the ability to close rifts. And without her...we will certainly be doomed.”

 

“But is that all?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Aren’t you curious, at all?” Varric answered. “About her, I mean. About where she came from? What she was doing at the Conclave? Or even why a Dalish elf would even care to be there?”

 

“Who she is? What she is all about?” added Varric with a sigh. “Hell, we don’t even know her name.”

 

“All valid questions, Varric. But not ones that can be answered while she rests –unable to wake,” said Solas knowingly. “But, to your question, yes: I do find myself curious of her. She is quite the mystery. Worthy of inquiry.”

 

“But, I am sure that all will be revealed soon.” the elf added.

 

“I hope you’re right.”

 

“You have doubts that your questions will not find their answers?”

 

“No. I have doubts that she will live to answer them all.”

 

“You are not alone in that concern,” admitted Solas. “Humans are not known to be understanding. Especially when something threatens their most cherished beliefs.”

 

“ _The Chosen of Andraste_ , her _Herald_ , is a lofty title...” Solas sighed.

 

“And...Add, on top of that, the fact that she’s an elf. And a mage.”

 

“Precisely,” replied Solas, nodding at Varric. “So, for the time being...at least, until we can be certain that she will not come to harm...it might be prudent to take it upon ourselves to keep her safe. Look out for her.”

 

“I think your right.” nodded Varric in agreement, before glancing up and noticing something strange on the lower bailey –near the quiet huts just off the makeshift marketplace. “Isn’t that her maid? _The twitchy one_?”

 

Turning to look in the direction in which Varric now watched intently, Solas inspected the scene carefully. The young, elven housemaid, who was often times quite jittery, looked even more nervous than usual as she quickly exited the small hut where their new companion had been sleeping. But as she descended the stairs, crossed the lower bailey, and climbed the second set of stairs toward the mid-bailey, Solas noticed that she looked far more nervous than he had ever seen her.

 

“Could it be that our sleeping friend has finally opened her eyes?” questioned Varric.

 

“Possibly,” Solas replied as he watched the servant quicken her pace, cross the mid-bailey, and ascend the stairs towards the Chantry. “It would certainly explain why her servant looks as if she has just, suddenly, seen her life flash before her eyes.”

 

“She is a nervous, little thing isn’t she?” Varric chuckled.

 

“A feeling that she must feel is warranted. Considering where she is.” retorted Solas. “And what she has, surely, been through as the elven servant of Humans.”

 

“True enough.” nodded Varric. “It breaks the heart, though, does it not?”

 

“The fact that she carries such fear. Even here, where there is no chance that she will be mistreated?”

 

“There is never such a certainty. No matter how much the Seeker, Commander, Lady Nightingale, or the Ambassador wish it to be so, there will always be outliers unaccustomed to treating those they believe beneath them with any sort of dignity. It a precarious situation. No matter which way you look at it.”

 

“However, having such apprehension and forethought into her surroundings will serve her well if things do go astray.”

 

Varric couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips.

 

“I hardly think living such an existence is something to find comical,” stated Solas abruptly. “And making light of her struggles is disrespectful.”

 

“It’s not that.” chuckled Varric once more.

 

“Then, please explain it to me.” requested Solas with a slight narrowing of his eyes. “Because I fail to see what is so amusing about the current plight of the People.”

 

“Because there isn’t any.”

 

“Well, at least on that, we agree.” sighed Solas.

 

“My apologies,” Varric added as he tried to diffuse the misunderstanding between them. “It wasn’t what you said that struck me so strangely. You are quite long-winded at times, Solas –that’s not a complaint, by the way, just an observation –but what you say is not wasted with minced words or embellishments. They are always straight, and to the point.”

 

“I just couldn’t help but find the way you speak a little entertaining, is all.”

 

“Perhaps it’s your delivery,” he added. “I don’t know. I just find it amusing at times. And it makes me chuckle.”

 

“You are a strange one, Master Tethras.”

 

“As are you...Chuckles.”

 

“Chuckles?” parroted Solas.

 

“That’s right, Chuckles.”

 

“You are incorrigible.”

 

“Thanks.” chuckled Varric as the sound of many voices speaking all at once echoed up toward their ears.

 

Looking for the source of the sound, both Varric and Solas looked down upon the crowd that had begun to amass and grow in the lower bailey just below the stairs leading to the hut that held their newcomer.

 

“It looks like your assumption was correct. It seems she has awakened.” inferred Solas.

 

“Looks like it.” he nodded as he eyed the growing crowd. “News sure does travel fast.”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

“What about it, Chuckles?” questioned Varric almost playfully. “Want to go get a firsthand look at our new Herald? Now that we aren’t fighting for our lives?”

 

“I would advise against it.”

 

“No time to sate your curiosity today?” countered the dwarf.

 

“It’s...not that. She is Dalish, Varric,” explained Solas as he continued to watch the crowd almost warily. “And a mage. Who, until three days ago, was accused of murdering the highest member of Thedas’ most powerful religion and was destined for the gallows. One, who has now just awakened in a place she does not know. Surrounded by humans that just days ago demanded her death and now wait just outside her door –their purpose and intent unknown to her.”

 

“I see your point.” nodded Varric.

 

“So? Do you think she’ll run?” he asked with a smirk.

 

“Not likely,” answered Solas, his tone assured. “While in her mind it may be in her best interest to do so, considering all that she is and what has happened, I doubt she will flee. Though our interaction was brief, she did not strike me as a coward.”

 

“She was, at least, earnest in her desire to help.” agreed Varric. “Now whether or not that was just a ploy, a placation until she could find her freedom...I guess we shall have to wait and see. To which will be the truth of it.”

 

“It looks...” answered Solas slowly, before returning to his normal vocal pace, as he watched the door to her hut creak open. “That the truth to such a question has already made itself known. Look.”

 

“Oh?” questioned Varric before pulling his eyes from the crowd to see the door finally open and reveal their new Herald, as her lithe frame stepped out from the darkness within. “Yes. So it would seem.”

 

Absent of the tunic and leggings the Ambassador had requisitioned for her after the first day of her unconsciousness, their new herald stood quietly before the crowd dressed in a softly-muted, yet, dark green, ankle-length gown of unknown origin. Her hair, black as midnight, was no longer bound into the tight bun they had first seen upon meeting her. It now fell down her back in unobstructed and silky, obsidian waves that moved gently with the swift breeze that blew through the lower bailey.

 

For a moment she paused, taking in the crowd before her. From their perspective, it was unclear of her expression, but both Varric and Solas could sense that she was weighing her options. The pause, however, did not last long as with one, visible, exhalation of a deep breath, she closed the door behind her and strode out into the lower bailey without any more hesitation. As the crowd watched on, speaking in not-so-hushed whispers about the woman before them, she traversed the large crowd without a word. Her eyes always keeping straight ahead. A strong determination gracing her frame.

 

When she cleared the crowd, turned, and began to climb the stairs leading to the mid-bailey, both Varric and Solas got a good look at her for the very first time without the adornments of war.

 

Unusually tall, with clean, slim lines and a voluptuous silhouette, the Herald carried with her an air of natural elegance and confidence unseen in anyone of her kind in a very long time. The dark green, long-sleeve dress; that looked so innocuous from afar; carried far more details than expected. Designed in a style that authentically mimicked the dresses that Rivaini Seers often wore, it was embellished with soft swirls of a darker thread, carried a plunging neckline, and was cinched at her narrow waist as the dress flared at the hips and showed off the entire length of her toned legs from two splits that ran from the ankle to her hip on both sides. Her face; clean and pale, and marked with an unknown design far lighter than any Dalish would carry; held a natural glow as her deep green eyes –lined with kohl –seemed to nearly shimmer in the mid-day sun.

 

It was then, at that moment, a realization hit Varric out of nowhere.

 

“Is it strange that seeing her like this, I suddenly find her quite attractive?” the dwarf questioned, awe lacing his words.

 

“Yes,” replied Solas coolly. “Quite strange, indeed.”

 

Before Varric could ask for clarification, the elf did so of his own accord.

 

“What you see before you is the Herald that is, and was, the moment you met her.”

 

“You just didn’t notice.”

 

“And you did?” countered Varric gently as she reached the top of the stairs, turned, and begin walking in their direction.

 

“I am nothing, if not observant; Master Tethras,” admitted Solas.

 

“Good to know,” Varric replied as she finished crossing the lower bailey, stopped before the door of the local tavern, and turned to enter.

 

As her hand reached for the door handle a second later, it suddenly came to a stop just before it made contact. Hovering gently, there was a pause. As all her movements seem to find a stop in time. For a few seconds, she just stood there looking as if she was internally debating on whether or not to go inside as they both watched on.

 

It was then, at that moment, that Solas could not miss the subtly sly and nearly mischievous smirk that suddenly graced her lips barely a second before she turned her head and looked in their direction.

 

It was a strange moment. Almost as if she had sensed them standing there watching her rather than seeing them.

 

She looked at both of them for a moment. Taking them both in, at first, together, then individually. Leaving Solas for last, she let her eyes travel up his form slowly. Seemingly taking him in inch by inch, moment by moment, until her eyes finally settled on his. As they met, she smiled once more with a devilish grin and suddenly winked at him before turning and disappearing behind the tavern door without a word uttered.

 

Taken aback at such sudden behavior, Solas was immediately stunned as his mind recoiled with a sudden curiosity mixed with disbelief. A strange feeling that required, if not demanded, several seconds of purely flabbergasted silence.

 

Recovering swiftly from such a surprise, and bringing his mind back to reality, Solas turned to see that Varric had stepped away from him and was now starting to descend the small stairs down to the middle bailey.

 

Solas quickly cleared his throat.

 

“Going somewhere Varric?” questioned Solas, a slight knowing tease lacing his voice.

 

“After _that_?” answered the dwarf with a mischievous smile gracing his curious face. “You better believe it.”

 

Solas could not hold back the small chuckle that fell from his lips.

 

Without another word, Varric nodded a gentle goodbye to his new elven friend and headed for the tavern, as Solas watched him go.

 

As Varric disappeared behind the tavern door a few moments later, Solas let out a deep sigh of acknowledgment as his mind flickered with a foretelling thought of their new Herald as Varric’s words seemed to echo in reminder.

 

_‘A curiosity, indeed, Master Tethras. A. Curiosity. Indeed.'_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, and would like to see it continue, please make sure to subscribe, hit that kudos button, and drops me some comments. I'd love to hear from readers on any fic I write. ^_^


	3. Solas: Glimpses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perplexed by their new Herald, and unsettled by their last interaction, Solas decides to learn more about her.

 

He didn’t want to admit it. Wanted to fight the truth of it. Would adamantly deny it in front of anyone who would have dared accuse him of such a thing. But, in the silence of the night; alone in the solitude of his own quarters; Solas could not bring himself to refute the truth to his own heart.

 

She’d gotten to him.

 

Somehow, with just that one mischievous gesture, she had managed to seed the thought of her in his mind all night long. Before he had even realized it, she had consumed every thought that flickered across his consciousness. And with every thought, more questions came. And curiosity grew. The more he wanted to know of her. The more he wanted to speak with her. Glean even the slightest sliver of understanding. To know her.

 

But how?

 

He could not, just, interrogate her. Assault her with a barrage of questions without any forethought. Demanding the answers that eluded him. But, waiting for the possible moments of her forthrightness; or willingness to divulge on her own terms; was not appealing either.

 

He knew nothing of her. Even her name, in the stillness of that night, still eluded him. And only the initial information relayed to him by the Seeker and the Nightingale was all he had to go by.

 

_A mage. Dalish in origin. Part of the Lavellan Clan. From somewhere in the Free Marches._

 

_Sent to the Conclave to spy for her people. In hopes of learning their possible fate. Only to end up being forced from the Fade. Left marked by ancient and mysterious magic that had the power to seal tears in the Veil._

 

 

‘But who is she? Really?’

 

Sleep did not come easily that night. With thoughts of her; so many questions; running rampant through his mind, it took well past midnight –long after the moon had reached its full height in the sky –before he could even settle himself with the determination to search the Fade for possible answers. And he’d searched. All through the Fade’s memory of Haven. Sneaking peeks into the dreams of many, hoping that some insights might lay in wait. While, all the while, hoping that he would stumble across his query’s very own dreams in the process.

 

As the morning sun crested over the mountains within the Fade, some hours later; blanketing the Fade in its blessed glow and signaling the coming dawn in the realm of the living; Solas sighed deeply with disappointment. For his search had been fruitless. The dreaming people of Haven, even the Seeker, and the Nightingale had held no new information. No inkling, nor a glimmer of more truth, of the woman that was now seen as the world’s only savior. Nor was there even a tremble, nor echo, of her very own dreams hiding in the recesses and hidden corners of the Fade.

 

Frustrated, yet invigorated, Solas opened his eyes to the waking slowly –taking in the warmth of the dawn streaming in through the nearby window –and let out another sigh. Knowing that he would have to employ other ways in which to learn more about the mysterious Herald who stirred him so easily. With naught but a simple glance, a not so simple smile, and a mischievous wink.

 

He would need to search carefully, warily, as not to incite suspicion amongst the others. He knew that if he, outright and blatantly, tried to learn more about her –without utilizing restraint –others would become painfully aware of his curiosity quickly.

 

It would be a weakness. A show of weakness he was not willing to allow. Not to anyone.

 

Scrubbing his hand down his face, and pulling himself from his bed, he took to task his morning rituals: first cleansing his body, then his aura, before dressing and preparing for the day. All the while mentally preparing himself for the task he had set before himself on this day.

 

_Observation first._

 

Though his curiosity rested heavy within him, he knew that what he was now determined to accomplish would take time. Time, that he did, and did not, believe he truly had. But, there was no way around it. He would have to be patient. Take his time. Orchestrate and navigate the path of her truths slowly, carefully, and methodically. Otherwise, he would fail again.

 

 

“Chuckles?” came Varric’s questioning voice, suddenly, as a knock on the door echoed into the room.

 

“Yes?” the elf replied.

 

Opening the door, slowly, Varric peeked into the room and managed a smile.

 

“So you are awake,” he concluded with a smile.

 

“Just so,” Solas replied. “Was there something you needed?”

 

“Headed to the tavern for food. Early enough that it’s not crowded. Interested?”

 

“Sure,” he answered with a nod.

 

Soon settled at a quiet table near the tavern’s glowing and warm hearth; with a steaming bowl of fennec and vegetable stew –herbed with a hint of elfroot, rosemary, and thyme –and a warm mug of mead; Solas and Varric tucked in for their meal quietly in the presence of only a handful of early risers; mostly servants; and the tavern keeper, Flissa, as she cleaned mugs with a damp rag and hummed an unknown tune softly to herself. For a time they ate in companionable silence. Just enjoying the warmth of the fire, the subtle and unexpected deliciousness of the food, and relishing in the quiet of the room. Until that is, Varric took a swallow of his mead and immediately cleared his throat.

 

“Something on your mind, Chuckles?” questioned the dwarf, his eyebrow raised curiously.

 

“Not particularly,” Solas replied, not willing to discuss the thoughts that still churned in his head after last night.

 

“Really?” questioned Varric, surprised. “Are you not well?”

 

“I am quite well, thank you.” replied the elf. Unsure of Varric’s tone. “Why?”

 

“You just seem _off_ this morning,” he replied. “Well, I do realize, I barely you know you. But, you just –I don’t know –seem out of sorts. Look kind of pale, too. Did you not sleep well last night?”

 

Solas could not halt how his body and mind suddenly, yet only slightly, flinched.

 

“Ah, so that is it.” realized Varric. “Something on your mind, I suspect. Keeping you from sleep.”

 

“Don’t fret too much about it, though.” the dwarf added. “You weren’t the only one.”

 

Solas, unable to stop himself, looked up from his food and at Varric’s face –immediately noticing that the dwarf, too, seemed to be not as well rested as he should have been.

 

“Late night?” questioned Solas. Remembering that the last time he saw the dwarf he was headed for the tavern where the Herald had just entered.

 

“Quite.” Varric nodded, taking another swig of his mead.

 

“Learn anything?”

 

“A bit,” he replied. “Curious?”

 

“Aren’t we all?” Solas countered with a sigh, mirroring his very sentiments from their last conversation the day before.

 

“I didn’t learn as much as I had hoped,” Varric admitted. “Though, I watched her for quite a while before venturing to strike up a conversation.”

 

“She spent the entire day in the tavern. And late into the night.”

 

“Not speaking to anyone. Most of the time sitting just over there in the corner.”

 

Solas turned his head, noting the table secluded in the back, right corner of the tavern and the chair still tucked up against the wall.

 

“Doing what, exactly?”

 

“For the most part, reading,” Varric answered.

 

“Reading?” Solas parroted.

 

“Apparently she’s quite the bookworm.” the dwarf continued. “Though, I only saw her reading one particular book. I didn’t get a good look at what it exactly was. When I finally decided to speak to her again, she –curiously –closed it and tucked it away in her chair.”

 

“Almost, as if, she deliberately didn’t want me to see it.”

 

“Suspicious,” mumbled Solas.

 

“A little, perhaps.” nodded Varric. “But, not so much when you think about it. Perhaps she simply put it away to be polite. Not allowing it to distract her from me –knowing that I wished to talk. Or perhaps, it was simply because she was reading something that could be judged as something inappropriate.”

 

“Inappropriate?”

 

Varric looked at Solas’ almost confused expression for a moment, wondering why he was looking at him like that, and then it hit him.

 

“Oh, did I not mention?” he questioned nonchalantly. “Our dear Herald is quite a forward woman.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“You didn’t notice?” countered Varric, a slight challenge in his voice. “You’re not, _quite_ , as observant as you let on. Are you, Chuckles?”

 

“I thought her little display yesterday would have given her away.” chuckled Varric. “I mean, she barely knows us, and all of a sudden she just decides to wink at us –out of the blue –like a lady eyeing a strapping young man from across the bar. So flirtatious, and unabashedly so.”

 

“I’m sure it shocked you as much as it did me, yesterday.” the dwarf stated knowingly.

 

“Quite.” Solas nodded in agreement.

 

“Then allow me to be the first to warn you, in earnest.” Varric continued. “What you saw yesterday was just a minute shadow of how she truly is when she wants to be playful.”

 

“She is quite uninhibited. Far more honest than I would have suspected. Unhesitatingly open. Yet completely mysterious.”

 

“And...”

 

“And?” Solas’ parroted.

 

“Enchanting.” the dwarf sighed. “And bewildering.”

 

“I have not, in all my years, ever been _so_ captivated by someone, as they talked about something as simple as the weather.” the dwarf admitted. “But, with her, I couldn’t stop myself from hanging on her every word. No matter the subject or tangent she ventured upon.”

 

“It was a strange and an almost unbelievable feeling. To be honest,” he added, with an awed hint of reflection in his voice. “It was like, with every word and gesture, she was drawing me farther and farther in. Enthralling me, over and over, with a peaceful easiness that I’ve never known another to possess. I felt calm. Safe. Serene. Unhindered by the world’s greatest woes and indescribably comfortable in my own skin.”

 

“It was extraordinary.”

 

“Could it have been a spell and enchantment?” questioned Solas, curiously.

 

“I...I am unsure. I don’t believe so.” sighed Varric. “There were several Templars in, and out, of the tavern all night. I’m sure if they _sensed_ any magic from her they would have reacted.”

 

“And, there was no reaction?”

 

“None,” answered Varric, his tone assured.

 

“What did the two of you speak about?” Solas prompted gently.

 

“Not much in the beginning. Though I came to realize that she is quite adept at finding ways to make the simplest things amusing. _‘Tired of being a wallflower, Varric?’_ was the first thing she asked me when I finally took it upon myself to speak to her after nearly two hours of _‘practically stalking her’_ –as she put it.”

 

“I asked her about her past...a little of it anyway.” he continued. “Wherein she basically confirmed what we knew of her already. You know Dalish, from the Free Marches, etc.”

 

“I asked about her family, her clan. In that, she was reluctant to elaborate. But what she willingly shared was that she basically grew up with no real kin. She was adopted into the Lavellan clan at the age of six when her magic manifested. Her previous clan, of which the name is still unknown to her, long-since dead she supposed, had –as such situations usually demand –too many mages already. And to protect themselves from Templar attention they sent her away to a clan that had need of a mage. She said she grew up well, there. Though she admitted that others often times treated her differently due to her unfamiliarity in blood. But, all in all, she said it was a good life.”

 

“Though...” the dwarf added in an addendum, with a noticeable hint of mistrust. “I got the feeling that there was a lot more about that part of her life that she deliberately glossed over.”

 

“Still, she’s adamant that she cannot remember anything that happened at the Conclave. How she managed to acquire the Anchor, or anything about why she was in the Fade or what happened there, however.” he continued. “And, in all honesty, in that at least, I believe she is telling the truth.”

 

“How can you be so certain?” questioned Solas.

 

“She’s completely at a loss, and far more concerned about her missing memories than someone would be if they were simply claiming that they didn’t know. The lack of memory bothers her. Really bothers her. So much so, that the irritation, disappointment, confusion, and earnest desire to understand –to know –the truth is as plain as the nose on her face. Unable to be hidden under a mask of indifference or apathy.”

 

“At this point, even the threat of death so easily thrown in her direction due to her –presumed –guilt in the death of the Divine does not assuage her own curiosity or wanton desire to know the truth of what really happened –though, I am sure, a part of her still wants to prove her innocence.”

 

“It concerns her a great deal. Weighs heavily on her. But...”

 

“But?” parroted Solas.

 

“As expected, the breach –and what we are trying to accomplish here –is occupying her thoughts more.”

 

“She was quite honest in that regard. She spoke of her own concern for Thedas. For what could –and will most likely happen –if the Breach is not sealed. If the culprit, or culprits, of the explosion at the Temple, are not found and brought to justice. And what could happen if something happens that makes her unable to help.”

 

“Those sentiments: she echoed quite often. Especially when she asked me if I truly trusted the people here. Cassandra and her piousness...worries her. She is unsure if she can trust the Seeker to be impartial. Not only with others here but also with her.”

 

“When I asked her why she had such concerns when it came to the Seeker, she quickly made the point to reiterate the fact that she is both Dalish and a mage. And that _Seekers are just Templars in better armor_.”

 

Solas couldn’t stop the little chuckle that passed through his lips unhindered.

 

“Yeah. Exactly.” nodded Varric. “Now you see what I mean about her sense of humor.”

 

“But...” the dwarf continued, returning to his train of thought. “Even so, she was earnest in knowing my opinions of all the major players here.”

 

“What did you tell her?” questioned Solas, in a tone far more curious than he intended.

 

“I told her that all this is bullshit. And trusting anyone here completely, even me, was not a good idea,” replied Varric honestly. “That her concerns about the Seeker were justified. And that in the case of the Seeker, it would be best for her to venture carefully. Even going as far as to tailor her words to coddle Cassandra in a way. Best not to disturb a sleeping mabari, as they say.”

 

“True enough.” nodded Solas.

 

“In truth, I got the distinct impression that she had heavy concerns about many of the others here. More than she willingly admitted. I fear that –aside from the Seeker –both Leliana and Josephine will fall under such scrutiny as well.”

 

“What makes you think that?” questioned Solas.

 

“I don’t know really. I just get the sense that our dear Herald doesn’t work well with other women,” answered Varric. “Perhaps simply because –according to her own words –she was raised around, mostly, boys as a child. One of only two girls in her age range for most of her life.”

 

“Or more likely, by her own admission, it’s because _‘people like them’_ are _‘less likely’_ to show their true sides to just anyone.”

 

“Whether or not it’s because they are women, is just my speculation, however. A theory.” Varric added. “I may be completely wrong. It may be something more akin to Dalish nature, their mistrust of Humans –in general –that makes her wary of them. In that, only time will tell. I suppose.”

 

“But, the truth of such a theory could be easily tested...” Solas began.

 

“As I am well aware.” interrupted Varric. “I thought the same. So I asked her about how she felt about the Commander.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

“She said she had no opinion of him as of yet,” Varric answered. “Citing that their interactions –so far –had been brief. That she had not taken the time to speak with him one on one. Something that she would rectify eventually. But I got the sense that she’s been putting it off deliberately. Her words about the man were quite reserved. A sentiment that threw me a little, because –even though Curly is a Templar and still acts like one –I got the sense that those little tidbits of who he is weren’t the reasons why she was being so reluctant and mistrustful of him.”

 

“But as to why that could be so, I’m afraid, I am at a loss still.”

 

“Could it be possible that her mistrust of the Seeker, Nightingale, the Ambassador, and the Commander, could be something more akin to their perceived authority –more than their race, genders, or backgrounds?” questioned Solas earnestly, trying to understand. “Perhaps it’s simply because she knows, deep down, that of all of us here, they are the ones that will ultimately hold her accountable for whatever happens –however this all ends. And that looming accountability makes her uncomfortable –wary?”

 

“It...Is possible.” nodded Varric. “Dalish –at least all the ones I’ve ever dealt with –have never been willing to submit to the authority of Humans, after all. Easily, that is. It goes against everything they ever been taught.”

 

“So that could be why she feels the way she does. Why she seemed to be unwilling to trust most of them.”

 

“But I digress.” sighed Varric. “I doubt we’ll ever truly know why she feels the way she does. Or, moreover, if her feelings will remain the same as we venture forth. Time has a way of changing our opinions of the world more often than we would ever expect.”

 

“Very true, Master Tethras.” agreed Solas.

 

At Solas’ agreement, the two fell into silence once more and refocused on the remnants of their meal that had long since gone cold. An occurrence, Solas found, that severely altered the taste of the stew. No longer appealing, he absentmindedly stirred around an asymmetrical and slightly burnt piece of carrot within his bowl as his mind replayed all that he had managed to learn about their new Herald from their very chatty dwarf.

 

He expected her concerns and mistrust. Considering her current situation, and how all this began. But the glimpses into her personality that Varric relayed had surprised him a bit. He had not expected her to have a sense of humor developed enough to impress the dwarf. Nor did he expect her to be so open with someone not of her kind. From all of his interactions with the few Dalish clans he had managed to come in contact with over the last year, he fully expected the Herald to mirror their distrust of all but their own. Though those sentiments were expectedly extended to most in Haven, Varric had not been included. That, in of itself, was a little odd.

 

_‘Is it because of his inherent ability to talk to anyone that she seemed to trust him enough to speak of things she would not normally divulge? Or is it, simply, because he is not a Human? And, therefore, as different as she?’_

 

 _‘If the latter is so...’_ he thought. _‘Then maybe learning more about her, through my own personal interactions with her, may be more fruitful than I initially thought.’_

 

 _‘Perhaps I should test this theory tonight?’_ he thought as an afterthought.

 

At that moment, the door to the tavern creaked open with a fretful force behind it so strong that it caught the attention of all who sat within. Solas and Varric immediately looked up and noticed the Herald’s servant worriedly scanning the small crowd and looking almost frightened at what she saw –or did not see.

 

“You there.” Varric immediately called out, grabbing the girl’s attention before waving her to come to him.

 

“What’s got you in a tizzy this morning?” Varric instantly questioned as the petite elf came to a stop in front of him.

 

“Its...It’s the Herald.” the girl answered with a quiet hesitation.

 

“What of her?” Solas questioned with concern.

 

“She’s missing, Sir. I can’t find her anywhere.”

 

“Missing?” Solas parroted, his eyes widening without restraint.

 

“Oh, is that all?” Varric calmly commented.

 

“Varric?” questioned Solas. His tone mixed with both disappointment in how nonchalant he sounded and suspiciousness of how the dwarf seemed to not be even the slightest concerned.

 

“It’s alright.” the dwarf consoled. “The Herald is not missing, my dear. So there’s no need to fret that you have failed to keep an eye on her, as Leliana has undoubtedly instructed. Or that you’ve failed in your ordered duty to keep her comfortable in her surroundings.”

 

“But, I cannot find her.” the young girl reiterated.

 

“You don’t need to,” Varric informed gently. “For she is not lost. I know exactly where the Herald is this morning.”

 

“Care to share, Varric?” questioned Solas, mistrust in his voice.

 

“She’s down in the clearing, past the eastern palisade,” he answered. “You know, where that small herd of Druffulo like to graze.”

 

“Don’t go bothering her though.” Varric immediately added, looking at the servant. “I suspect she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

 

“But.” the small elf argued.

 

“Varric’s right.” Solas agreed, grabbing the young girl’s attention. “If the Herald went out of her way to quietly slip out before you came to check on her, she did so because she wished to be alone. And if you interrupt such solitude, It would not be unlikely that she would become very cross with you.”

 

“But, if it still concerns you, however, we would be willing to check on her for you,” he added. “Would that be acceptable?”

 

For a moment the young girl hesitated, obviously conflicted about what she should do, but after releasing an accepting breath she nodded.

 

“Very good.” smiled Varric. “We will attend to the Herald this morning then. You may go back to your other duties until her return.”

 

“Yes, sir.” the servant answered, giving a little bow before turning away and heading for the door.

 

When the servant was finally out of earshot, Solas asked the question that had settle in his mind the moment Varric revealed the Herald’s location.

 

“What is she doing past the eastern palisade?”

 

Varric smirked mischievously.

 

“Something fascinating, I’d imagine.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put this up last minute, after being up for over 24 hours and half dead from lack of sleep, so their may be some grammar mistakes. Also, I apologize if this chapter seems -at worst- redundant of other fics you may have read but I found I needed to put in some filler content or there would be way to many plot holes later on.


	4. Solas: Teases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Varric go in search of their Herald never knowing that by doing so they would witness something that could never be unseen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: Chapters have been renamed to give readers a cursory heads up as to its main romantic interest.

 

 

“Shall we go?” prompted Varric with a chuckle as he made to stand.

 

“You don’t already know?” countered Solas as he followed suit.

 

“Didn’t ask.” answered the dwarf. “And she didn’t specify.”

 

“Specify what?” Solas carefully countered as he rounded the table and followed Varric across the room. “Care to clarify?”

 

“Oh...” chuckled the dwarf once more, grabbing the door and opening it. “She asked me about it last night. Asked if I could suggest to her a quiet, out of the way place, around here, where she could find a little peace and quiet. A little solitude.”

 

“Apparently, she's not used to the all this busyness,” he added as Solas walked through the open door and he followed. “The crowds. The noise. The sheer amount of people. Wanted a little time to herself.”

 

“I see...”

 

“But doesn’t that seem a little odd, to you?” questioned Solas as he closed the door behind them and they headed towards the lower bailey. “Considering the current situation and the unstable climate –both political and religious – wouldn’t it dictate to err on the side of caution? Wandering off before dawn, attempting to avoid notice, and leaving Haven without informing anyone...It would not be a stretch of the imagination for anyone to assume that she intends to run. To flee this situation. And almost certainly, by doing so, solidifying the arrogant and despotic rumors of her direct involvement in the death of the Divine?”

 

“One could look at it in such a light,” Varric replied. “But, I doubt anyone would go that far.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“It’s a standing order, or so I am told by my own little birds,” Varric explained. “She is to be watched, observed. But, under no circumstance, is she to be interrupted or interfered with. That, is, unless she threatens the life or livelihood of the people here.”

 

“The Nightingale, it seems, wishes to observe the Herald’s behavior –not completely convinced of her innocence –in hopes of determining if she can truly be trusted. That her intentions to help, to seal the breach and find out the truth of what really happened, is genuine. A farce of perceived freedom to see what she will ultimately do with it.”

 

“In other words...” Solas responded. “Giving her enough rope to hang herself.”

 

“Precisely.” nodded Varric.

 

“But the Nightingale’s tactic won’t work.” the dwarf continued, as they both turned left and descended the stairs to the lower bailey.

 

“How can you be so certain?”

 

“Because the Herald, above everything else, is one of the most intelligent women I have ever met,” he answered. “And she is not that stupid. To fall, for such an obvious trap.”

 

“No.” dismissed Varric. “There is definitely a very good reason why she asked me about such a place. There was intent behind it I am sure.”

 

“Did she say anything else? Anything that could be perceived as a reason why she would seek out a place of solitude? Other than her uncomfortableness with civilization?”

 

“No.” the dwarf answered. “Well, not in so many words. She didn’t, outright, say why she really wanted to go there. And I am sure if I had pressed the issue, she would have avoided it and change the subject somehow. But, I got the feeling that whatever her real reason...she just wasn’t ready to reveal it just yet.”

 

“Although...”

 

“Although?” parroted Solas, as they descended the final pair of steps and walked through the main gate.

 

“I got the feeling that something was _up_ with her last night.” Varric explained. “All was well and good for a long while during our chat but nearing the end of our time together her demeanor changed. It was very slight. And if I hadn’t been paying attention as closely as I was, I doubt even I would have noticed it. One minute she was chatty, telling jokes here and there and talking about all manner of subjects with a very real, very genuine smile. And then the next minute, it was like she was suddenly on guard.”

 

“Something changed, though I don’t know what,” he added. “But the congeniality and comradery that we had shared up until that point seemed to falter. She became somewhat distant. Distracted. And when I asked her what was wrong she played off the change in her behavior as tiredness.”

 

“I didn’t press this issue.” Varric sighed. “But I wish I had. Because it ended up bothering me all night. So much so, that I couldn’t really sleep.”

 

The fell into silence once more, as they quietly walked from the main gate and passed a large group of soldiers drilling in the morning sun.

 

“It seems the Commander has not arrived to oversee the new recruits.” Solas halfheartedly commented as he noticed that Cullen was nowhere to be seen.

 

“He’s probably in the Chantry again.” Varric supplied. “He, Josephine, and Leliana have been having morning meetings quite regularly the last few days. Going over scouting reports and trying to coordinate our mission to the Hinterlands before we leave next week.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Silence once again fell between them as the ventured past the soldiers and followed the path through the woods. Startling a few wild nuglings and a fennec or two as they walked; passing the old house where Master Taigen once lived; they exited through eastern palisade just a light dusting of snow began to fall around them. The forest just past the palisade was strangely quiet –save for the sound of distant movement of a few wild rams playing on the stony mountainside just out of view and the tinkling of snow as each flake met the ice-covered trees. Before them the path diverged: The northern path snaked its way back down to the river. The southern path lead towards the cliff face under the shadow of the forest’s trees. And the eastern path; which they both immediately noticed had been used recently; stamped with the footprints of very bare feet; turned east toward the large clearing that Varric had spoke of. Following suit, they traversed the path quietly and kept a look out for their Herald. But heard nothing, nor found any other sign of her, for its entirety.

 

That is, until the edge of the clearing –and what resided within said clearing –came into view.

 

Shock immediately echoed through them both. Unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to close their eyes or look away, they stared at the Herald in complete dismay.

 

Completely unaware of those who now secretly watched on. Alone, she knelt in the deep snow of the quiet and secluded clearing with her legs tucked quietly under her thighs. Her long, unbound hair; caressed by the morning’s peeking sun and dusted with gentle snowflakes; swayed gently in the light breeze as her skin, pale and smooth; peppered with droplets of once-frozen rain and a tinge of sweat; pulled tight and then relaxed with the rise and fall of every measured, slow, and steady breath.

 

In her own little world; surrounded by nothing but a crumpled, fur-lined cloak strewn gentle on the ground all around her; lost to the obliviousness of it all.

 

And as bare as the day the Gods gave her life.

 

For a moment they just stared. Unable to understand what in the world they were seeing. Not understanding why in the world she would be such a way. And almost doubting their own eyes.

 

For none of it made any sense.

 

After a moment, how long would be anyone’s guess, Solas found his voice just enough to question Varric ever so quietly.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Something’s wrong.” was all that Varric could muster as his eyes seemed to narrow and Solas suddenly sensed a strange feeling of wary flowing from the dwarf.

 

He was suspicious. Worried. And very much so, suddenly, on alert.

 

“Very wrong.” the dwarf added softly, his eyes immediately scanning the tree line just past the Herald.

 

Solas began to feel it. The air of uncertainty. Of danger, apparent all around them. Though, it was certainly strange that the Herald of Andraste was literally sitting naked in the snow _that_ –he was sure –was not why Varric seemed on edge. Or why he, himself, could also feel a strange sense of danger all around them.

 

It was then that said danger suddenly made itself known with a flicker of the Fade and shimmer of reflective light, as a man suddenly appeared behind the Herald with a dagger held high.

 

‘Assassin!’ Solas immediately realized, as his hand shot out and erected a barrier around her just as Varric screamed.

 

“LALINAYA!”

 

The Herald’s movements were so quick that Solas could swear he almost never noticed. In an instant, her hand shot up and her fingers suddenly snapped. The movement instantly calling forth a bright flash that filled the clearing in the blink of an eye. Blinded momentarily, Solas and Varric both shielded their eyes and then tried to blink back their vision for several heartbeats. When they could finally see again they opened their eyes and looked on in disbelief at what they saw.

 

The man, the assassin who had tried to take the Herald’s life, was completely encased in a solid and unbreakable block of ice. A small opening; presumably left so they man could still breathe; where his nose and mouth were; the only reprieve allowed in such imprisonment.

 

Solas could not stop how his eyes immediately wandered back to the woman still kneeling in the snow. He gave her a cursory glance, checking for any injury, and saw none and immediately began to wonder what the hell was truly going on.

 

For a moment she just sat there. Quiet. Still. And then, after letting out –what looked like –a cleansing breath, she began to rise out of the snow.

 

Ever so slowly.

 

Delaying her upward motion, she reached back for the cloak on the ground all around her.

 

But she didn’t pull it up swiftly.

 

Deliberately allowing it to hang from her hands for a few intentional breaths, teasingly, she then slowly pulled it up her naked and snow-kissed skin –before; finally: Solas thought; shrugging it over her shoulders. Tying it around herself and pulling up the hood, soon after, she slightly turned to look at her would-be assassin with a nearly satisfied smile.

 

“Stop staring, Chuckles,” muttered Varric beside him. “Let’s go.”

 

Before Solas could answer, or either of them could take a step, they both suddenly heard the Herald speak.

 

“If you are quite done playing the role of a peeping Tom...” she announced with a sarcastic tone; making Solas’ heart drop; as she then glanced over her shoulder in their general direction.

 

“Commander.” she continued. “Do remove yourself from the bushes and give me a hand with this. Would you?”

 

Solas’ and Varric’s eyes immediately began to scan the tree line. And, sure enough, not a minute after the Herald’s order, Cullen reluctantly stepped out of the bushes further up the clearing with two Templars on his heels –looking far more uncomfortable than they both had ever seen him.

 

Neither Varric nor Solas could stop the soft chuckles that escaped their lips.

 

“Look how red he is,” Varric whispered conspiratorially as they watch the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces make his way across the clearing towards the Herald looking more akin to a young boy caught sneaking peaks into a woman’s bath house than that of a seasoned General.

 

By the time Cullen made it to the Herald’s side a litany of apologies were flooding from his lips. Though, she seemed far less concerned that he had been watching her without her permission than he was. Not even acknowledging his efforts to smooth over the situation with such pursuits, she turned her eyes to the assassin once more.

 

“Is he one of ours?” she questioned.

 

Slightly surprised that the Herald had not acknowledged his attempts at an apology, Cullen froze for only a second before centering his mind on her words rather than what he had just seen. Turning to the assassin he looked him over carefully.

 

“Though he is clearly wearing one of our scout uniforms...” Cullen answered, clearing his throat mid-way. “His face is unfamiliar.”

 

“He is one of Leliana’s then.” she countered.

 

“Unlikely,” Cullen replied. “She is not one to utilize assassins without sanction. And, I highly doubt that she would directly, or indirectly, send someone to kill you. She doesn’t work that way.”

 

“Then, perhaps...” she answered, turning her attention to one of the Templars standing behind the Commander, and leveling an almost threatening gaze. “You should have her see to this immediately. Otherwise, I will be forced to assume that our Spymaster in undermining our efforts here; for personal reasons; and will have to deal with such a situation far swifter and with far less tact than anyone would wish to witness.”

 

Before Cullen could even react, the Templar receiving the Herald’s glare immediately bowed.

 

“Right away, Your Worship.” he acknowledged before turning tail and sprinting back towards Haven just as Varric and Solas arrived at the Herald’s side.

 

“Now, with that being said, if you’ll excuse me, Cullen...” her tone changing from authoritative to almost sweet. “I have had _quite_ enough of this cold.”

 

“Bout to lose your bits, Lala?” questioned Varric with a chuckle.

 

“Some more than others.” she countered with a teasing chuckle of her own.

 

“Would you care for an escort?” Solas offered.

 

“If you wish...” she replied with a smile, as her eyes wandered to Solas and her hands instinctively tugged her cloak a little closer to her body. “I would not begrudge the company.”

 

“Besides...” she added as an afterthought, as she began to walk and the two of them followed suit –flanking her on both sides. “I am sure your curiosities would get the better of the both of you should I reject such an offer.”

 

“That is a commendable attitude,” Solas commented.

 

“Not commendable.” she corrected. “Just respectful.”

 

“And practical.”

 

“I will –most likely –be made to make a report on what happened here anyway,” she added off-handedly. “Several times over, I’m sure. Best to get some practice in on the retelling...”

 

“If you are honest, no such practice is necessary,” Solas advised.

 

“I am always honest.” she countered. “And practice is always necessary. Otherwise, you will gain no improvement. Nor learn nothing new.”

 

“She’s got you there, Chuckles.”

 

“So...” Varric prompted as they neared the eastern palisade. “What was that all about?”

 

“I noticed him last night.” she began. “In the tavern, when we were talking. At first, I just thought he was just another patron. One of the people of Haven, a local perhaps, or even one of our new recruits. So I didn’t think much of him.”

 

“But, after a while, I began to notice things out of the corner of my eye.” she continued. “Strange movements. Odd facial expressions when I would laugh or get a little rowdy.”

 

“You know, like when you were telling me that story about that noble that got caught in the Hanged Man with two male prostitutes by his wife and his mistress...at the same time!” she laughed gently.

 

“Or when I asked you to show me that little magic trick with the mugs of mead...”

 

“That was actually what tipped me off,” she replied. “That there was something else going on. When I used magic, even that tiny little bit, I noticed how the tension in the room –where he was concerned anyway –seemed to shift. I had honestly felt a little hostility from him all night. But I was unsure as to why.”

 

“Sadly it is part and parcel of my nature...a gift or a curse depending on how one would look at it...but it is not uncommon for me to receive unwanted attention from strangers on a regular basis.” she sighed. “Whether it is the fact that I am ‘unusual’ elf, the fact that I am Dalish – and, therefore, somehow exotic –or the fact that men seemed to be attracted to me more so than most, I don’t know. But I often find myself being ogled or even harassed by strangers.”

 

“Even more so now that I am the _Herald of Andraste_...” she added sarcastically.

 

“So my first impression was of that way. That he was just attracted to me, or interested in me because of my physical appearance, and that’s why he kept staring at me all night.”

 

“And so, I initially dismissed him.”

 

“But, such hostility grew exponentially after I did that little trick. It made me take more notice of him.”

 

“So I watched him, as we talked.” she continued. “And noticed a great many things –things I won’t completely get into –but of all of it, I noticed that through it all he was always staring at me or the mark with a tinge of hate creasing his eyes.”

 

“My intuition spoke to me then.” she sighed. “And I realize that he could possibly be a threat to me. So I divulged a plan to call him out. To see what exactly his intentions were.”

 

“That’s why you asked me for a quiet place?”

 

“Yes...” she nodded and then smirked. “And, if you recall correctly, I did so with a far louder tone than our previous discussions had held.”

 

Varric took a second, thinking the moment over, and then nodded.

 

“Yeah, you were louder.”

 

“A deliberate act, I take it?” Solas piped up.

 

“Of course.” she nodded. “I did so with the intention that he would hear. And, therefore, know that I would be venturing to the clearing before first light the next morning.”

 

“It was a trap.”

 

Lalinaya nodded.

 

“It was simple enough plan,” she explained further. “Giving him a time and a place where I would be alone and secluded. Entice him to show his face. Then his intentions –whether they were because he was infatuated with me or because he wanted me dead –would be known.”

 

“Risky.” Varric sighed. “Very risky.”

 

“And foolish.” Solas chided as they advanced on the front gates of Haven. “What would have happened if he had managed to strike you down before you realized he was there? Or if there were more than just him? Perhaps even too many for even you to manage? With no one to aide you?”

 

“But...” she smiled knowingly. “I wasn’t alone, now was I?”

 

“Only by chance,” Solas answered.

 

“You sure about that?” she questioned, glancing at Solas with a mischievous smile.

 

At that moment, Varric suddenly started laughing boisterously and whole-heartedly.

 

“You’re a genius Lala.” chuckled Varric.

 

“See.” she smiled. “Varric gets it.”

 

“Gets what?”

 

“She wasn’t alone, because she planned the whole thing,” Varric explained, sounding a little impressed. “And on the fly, too.”

 

When Solas looked at him curiously, he explained further.

 

“She deliberately asked about the clearing loud enough so that he could hear, but also because she knew that if she came up missing the next morning and I found out...I would know exactly where she was.” Varric continued. “And, would come looking for her out of curiosity.”

 

“But there was no guarantee that you would find out that information out in time.” countered Solas. “She would still be in danger.”

 

“And that’s where Curly comes in,” Varric answered with a smile. “Right, Lala?”

 

“Right.” she nodded as they ascended the stairs to the lower bailey and turned towards her cabin. “I made sure that the Commander saw me leave Haven. I knew that the Templar in him would be curious as to where I; an unsanctioned, apostate mage; was going so early in the morning. Alone. And I also knew that as the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces he would feel compelled to follow simply to make sure that, no matter what I was up to, I would be safe.”

 

“I hadn’t –however –accounted for his employ of other Templars, though,” she added as an afterthought. “A variable that I overlooked. I’ll admit.”

 

“His hatred for mages may be a little stronger than I had initially thought.”

 

“It was still foolish.” doubled-downed Solas. “You could have been killed.”

 

“Perhaps...” she smirked. “But, if this life has ever taught me just one thing, it’s that without risk there is no reward.”

 

“I may have put my life on the line...” she added. “But by doing so I outed a traitor –or, more likely, an infiltrator –in our ranks long before he could stain his hands with the blood of our people.”

 

“It was a risk, I know. But a risk that was both prudent and necessary.”

 

“Still...” Solas countered, this time far more gently than before. “There were other ways to out the assassin.”

 

“Of course there were,” she replied, coming to stop outside her cabin and turning to them both. “But, sometimes you have to work with what you got.”

 

Solas could not deny the wisdom in her words. Though he wished he could.

 

“True enough.” he nodded.

 

“Now. Thank you both for your kind escort and the chance to ‘practice’ my report.” she said cordially. “But, if you’ll excuse me, a warm bath, a set of clothes, and my soft bed are summoning me with quite a fervor. So, I will take my leave...for now.”

 

“Yeah. Sure.” nodded Varric. “Drinks later?”

 

“Of course.” she smiled.

 

With a slight nod, she turned and reached for the door –pulling it open gently. But before she could enter the cabin proper, Varric spoke up on last time.

 

“Just one more question before you go, Lala?”

 

“Alright,” she answered without looking back.

 

“Why were you naked?” Varric deadpanned, holding nothing back.

 

Turning her head ever-so-slightly she smirked with that same smile that Solas had seen the day before as she stood outside the tavern and had sized them both up.

 

“Because...” she said with a nearly erotic sigh; sounding almost like a moan. “Everything’s more fun when you’re naked.”

 

And with that, she disappeared behind her cabin door without another word uttered.

 

 


	5. Solas: Temptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So lost in his own thoughts, Solas wastes the day away losing sight of the time. When he realizes his mistake, he ventures to the tavern for a bite of food and to clear his thoughts, only to run into the subject of his distraction sitting quietly in her favorite corner and awaiting his arrival with a endearing smile.

 

 

 

The world was far more different that he would have ever thought.

 

He expected that some things would have changed in all the time he had been lost to the world.

 

That...regimes would change. The leaders and kings would come and go as quickly as the last breath of a summer breeze in early autumn. Disappearing as fast as they’d appeared.

 

That...the people would change. Evolve from their days as those without hope to those who looked into the future with joyful faces and bright smiles. Who would seek out knowledge? Learn to accept those who were different. And carry with them an understanding heart.

 

That...the thoughts and beliefs of the people would change. Find new ways to see and experience their new world. With an open and curious mind. Accepting the world as it now existed and never hesitating to always keep moving forward.

 

For change was inevitable.

 

And could not be avoided.

 

Or, so he had always thought.

 

In all the time he had been gone from this world, it seemed, that there was one constant that had never, or could ever change.

 

And, it hadn’t.

 

He wasn’t sure when he had first felt it. That indescribable pull. Or what had caused it. What she had done. Or said. To invoke it. But the more and more he learned of her, experienced her presence –the truth of her –the more he could not deny how she had begun to encroach further and further into his thoughts. Until his mind could go no further than a few moments before she was there again. Teasing. Taunting. Tantalizing. Torturing.

 

And, that morning had made it much, much worse.

 

He could not forget the way she looked. Kneeling quietly amongst the winter wind as snowflakes fell all around her. How her pale, bare skin glistened in the morning light amongst the quietness and stillness of her solitude. How her eyes twinkled with mischief or how her satisfied smile lit up her face.

 

Or how his heart had throbbed so violently at the sight.

 

It had been hours since he had watched her disappear behind her cabin door. Hours since Varric had done nothing but chuckled at her words, and walked away. Hours since he had turned and made his way to his cabin without even remembering that he had.

 

And his mind could still not let it go.

 

He had tried to forget. To put it out of his mind and focus on something more real. More substantial. More important. But found he could not. His mind filled with thoughts of her: more questions, more ponderings, more inferences, that he couldn’t stem the tide of his curiosity and fascination. Nor could he stop the overwhelming desire that thrummed him. A desire to know. To experience. To touch. To understand. To find the truth of her. Her absolute truth.

 

But, more so, to find the truth behind his feelings.

 

Because it all felt so foreign. Even the slightest hint of attraction for another.

 

And, it had been such a very long time.

 

But, it hadn’t been always so.

 

A rogue in his own right, he’d had his dalliances as a young man. Many, in fact. And all so insignificant that he could not recall much of what they once looked like, let alone how they had met or even their names. A noblewoman here, and commoner there. A barmaid here, a general there. A princess here, a goddess there. Round and round he went, taking pleasure from where it may exist. Never once caring for more than what the night would bring. Or the emptiness left behind as the dawn rose.

 

Until his vision of the world changed. And he changed with it. No longer was he the carefree wolf bound only by his very own whims. A leader he must become. Putting away his boyish pursuits. For the world demanded his true self. A protector. A rebel. A master of the Fade that would bring forth salvation for all those who suffered under the rule of his kin.

 

And when it was done, the deed changed the world once more. And, so too, did he. Becoming a distant memory, along with all the once-remembered memories of the world before, he faded away into obliviousness. Lost to the annals of time.

 

When he awoke. Once more becoming part of the world he had left behind so long ago. He had not thought of anything more than what had become of the hope he had tried to leave behind. How it had horrifically changed. For it was not as he would have wished. The people were lost. Far too lost to know the truth of the world that should have been.

 

And he could not let it be so. It had gone on for far too long. And it must end. Return to the world it once was. And he would see to it. No matter the consequence.

 

Never realizing that this world held something that would make him rethink everything.

 

And she had. Already.

 

He barely knew her. Had not even learned her name until that morning when the assassin’s blade began to fall and Varric cried out. And knew nothing of what her true beliefs or intentions were. Yet the attraction remained as his doubts and worries grew. And he knew he could not deny it. Though, in his mind, he wishes he could. That with every waking moment of every day since the moment he met her that the desire to answer her silent call grew deeper and deeper. Leaving him far more wanting that he had ever been in his very long life. Desiring a path that he had never thought he would ever find himself wishing for again.

 

But he could not. For the farce that he had created demanded that he keep his distance. Make no ties that could not be easily broken. So when his mistake at the Conclave was undone he could slip away into obliviousness once more. Free to pursue the truth behind his revival and set the people free once and for all. To, then, disappear from the world’s memory once more. Remaining nothing but a fleeting thought. Lost and forgotten. As he should have been, should have remained, had he not failed so long ago.

 

Yet, he could not fight the feelings growing deep inside of him.

 

Or how they tore at his heart. Tearing him in different directions. Begging for him to go this way rather than that. So strongly that he could not deny the validity of them both.

 

He wanted to know her. To have her at his side. To be with her. But he knew he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. For it would do no justice. Bare no truth. Give no comfort. And in the end, there would be only pain. And, even more, regrets. Far more than he ever thought he would have to bear. And stronger than any that had come before or would come after.

 

But, what could he do?

 

He had tried to ignore it. Find something else; an intangible task, an unreachable goal; to better occupy his thoughts. And every attempt had failed. Miserably. Until all, he could hear is the beating of his heart as he stared at her in that clearing. And how it had cried out for her with an unbelievable and unimaginable desire that he could no longer ignore the truth that had now become irreverently his.

 

 

Staring off in space for what seemed like ages, Solas closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh as he shook his head.

 

There was nothing he could do. He knew. Not now.

 

He was stuck. Irrevocably so. With no true solution that could end all of this without it becoming painful.

 

“I have to let this go.” he sighed. His head lowered. A frown upon his face. “It will only lead to ruin.”

 

Taking a few cleansing breaths, Solas tried to clear his mind as best he could. Thinking about this. About her. How he felt. What he could do. Should do. It was too much. Taking up to much of his time. Thoughts. Where so much else remained to be dealt with. Planned.

 

Opening his eyes, he looked towards the window of his cabin and noticed that darkness had long-since fallen across the world. He had wasted an entire day and nearly half the night, lost in his own thoughts. Letting the day fly by without even knowing. A realization that bothered him even more. For he had so much to do. To be so distracted.

 

At that moment, his stomach managed a grumble. A reminder that he had not had a bite to each since his post-dawn breakfast with Varric. He shook his head once more. Disappointed even more so in his own foolishness and lack of control.

 

‘I need to stop this.’ he thought.

 

Letting out one more sigh, he took to the task of tidying himself up. It didn’t take long. For he had done nothing that would really require a thorough wash or attentiveness. Before stealing his will, reminding himself that he had a purpose. A duty. And that he would not be able to accomplish his goal if he continued to act like a love-struck fool.

 

Leaving his staff behind, he exited his cabin and shivered at the stiff, wintry breeze that subsequently blew across his shoulders as he closed the door behind him. The temperature upon the mountainside had been dropping in recent nights and tonight it seemed far colder than it had before. Though there were no clouds in the sky, alight with millions of stars and the Breach looming just to the north, intermittent snowflakes still managed to flitter in the wind. Being swept from rooftops and snow-covered trees. The hour was late. Well past twelve bells. And the entire village was utterly quiet. Very few signs of life still lingered. Mostly guards on patrol and nothing more.

 

Rubbing his arms gently, trying to call forth some warmth, Solas made his way toward the tavern. In hopes that he had not been distracted for far too long that Flissa had retired for the night and there would be food still available. As he descended the stairs to the middle bailey, he noticed that a glow of candles could still be seen within the tavern through the windows, and felt a little hope. For it was a good sign. Perhaps not all was lost.

 

After a few moments walk, he entered the tavern. Finding it looking far more abandoned than he expected. There were no drinking soldiers. No servants flitting from table to table. No music wafting through the air as the bard strummed the strings of her lute.

 

And no sign of Flissa.

 

Sighing in disappointment, Solas shook his head once more.

 

‘I’m too late.’

 

Turning with a grumble upon his lips, he made to return to his cabin but just as he was about to grab the tavern door once more, he heard someone clear their throat. His mind suddenly flashed a fight response –believing that someone had been lying in wait – and Solas immediately spun around; magic pooling in his palm.

 

“Good Evening...” came a gentle voice.

 

Solas froze, his cast snuffing out in an instant as his eyes fell upon the owner of such a voice.

 

In the midst of the warm glow from the tavern’s only hearth, the Herald; nestled in the corner dubbed by Varric as her favorite spot; sat quietly –an open book in her hand. Dressed in a near-black, charcoal grey dress –cut in her usual style and accented with a low cut, black-laced bodice, and barefoot, she had stretched herself between two chairs. Sitting quietly in one while allowing one leg to stretch out straight, her other bent at the knee, as her feet rested in the seat of the other. A position, that while looking quite comfortable, allowed the slits of her dress to fall between her thighs and left anyone who happened by a masterful view of her toned, untouched legs.

 

“Something the matter, Solas?” she questioned gently.

 

“N...no,” he answered, stuttering.

 

“My apologies, Herald.” Solas quickly apologized. “I did not intend on disturbing you. If you’ll excuse me...”

 

“There is no need for such propriety.” she interrupted. “Neither is there a need for you to make a hasty retreat.”

 

“You have not disturbed me in the least.” she smiled. “In fact, I have been expecting you.”

 

“Expecting me?” he questioned. “Why would you...?”

 

It was at that moment Solas noticed her eyes fall to the table between them. And his eyes then followed. Finding a clay pitcher, two covered silver trays, and two mugs of mead –one of which was nearly empty – sitting before her.

 

“No one has seen you since earlier this morning.” she supplied an explanation before he could even question. “A usual occurrence. Becoming buried in your work. So Varric assured. But I was concerned...”

 

“Concerned?” Solas parroted, looking up at her.

 

“It does not bode the body well to deprive oneself of food,” she answered.

 

“So, you arranged for a meal to be set aside for me?” he questioned. “And, what? Waited for me?”

 

“To come up for air, yes.” she nodded. “I suspected that after this morning’s little adventure...after my behavior...that you may like to have a formal chat –as we have not done so as of yet. I expected it –for most of the day –in fact. However, when no meeting came, I chose to take my usual refuge here.”

 

“And this?” he questioned motioning to the table.

 

“It is always prudent for one to be prepared,” she answered with a knowing smirk.

 

“Now, come. Sit. It has been quite some time since you’ve last eaten. You must be hungry.”

 

“Very well.” Solas agreed, wearily. A frown on his face.

 

“What’s with such a look, Solas?” questioned Lalinaya. “Do you distrust my concern?”

 

“N...no. It’s just...been quite some time.” Solas answered honestly. “I am...uncomfortable...with such kindness. Such forethought. That...it is unexpected. I had not thought...”

 

“That someone, or better yet: a stranger, would take a moment to care about your well being?” she finished for him.

 

“Well...yes.” he nodded.

 

“Solas.” her voice slightly disappointed. “Do not, ever, dismiss a person’s feelings. It’s quite rude, you know?”

 

“It may be unexpected, but if you go through life forever suspecting every kindness that crosses your path –seeing villainy where there is none– you will never truly see the hearts of the people who would offer you such care.”

 

“Now,” she added sternly, sounding almost a like a scolding mother. “Sit and eat.”

 

“Very well, Herald,” he answered, giving in and taking a seat across from her.

 

Lalinaya immediately clicked her tongue.

 

“Must you..." she sighed.

 

"Pardon?" he answered with a quirk of his brow.

 

"Titles are both useless and unnecessary, Solas.” she chided. “Its Lala...or at least Lalinaya when we are alone.”

 

“After all, you wouldn’t want me going around calling you just ‘Apostate’ now would you?”

 

“No.” he frowned.

 

“Then, leave the titles at the door. Would you? And, at least, extend to me the courtesy of calling me by my name in private.”

 

“Very well...Lalinaya.”

 

“Thank you.” she nodded. “Now eat something.”

 

“It’s roast boar and vegetables,” she added, watching Solas lift the dish’s lid a moment later.

 

“Boar?” he gasped in surprise, looking at the generous plate before him. “Such animals are hard to come by in this part of Thedas. Wherever did it come from?”

 

“Rare, indeed.” she nodded. “I am just lucky, I guess.”

 

Solas' eyes immediately shot up from his plate.

 

“We had a delivery of supplies this afternoon. The merchant delivering them was quite a crass and arrogant man, with roaming hands...”

 

Solas’ eyes immediately narrowed ever so slightly –flashing with irritation.

 

“But I managed to haggle him down to a relatively decent price.”

 

“Unfortunately, though, there was only the one...” she continued with a sigh. “So I chose to have it prepared and proportioned for my closest companions and advisors. The rest was sequestered for the orphans staying in the Chantry.”

 

“Orphans?” questioned Solas. Surprised by her generosity.

 

“Oh? Did you not know?” she answered. “We have some ten or so young ones. Mostly humans from the area. Who lost their parents either at the Conclave or killed by demons in the countryside. I have ordered Josephine to make sure they are seen to properly until a Chantry mother from Denerim arrives next week.”

 

“And what will become of them once she arrives?”

 

“They will be taken to an orphanage in Denerim. Leliana tells me that King Alistair has greatly improved the living conditions for orphaned children in Fereldan. They are no longer forced into the service of the Chantry, a Circle, or workhouses, are given a good education and are taught invaluable skills that they will be able to use confidently as adults. He has also enacted an adoption program. Placing children with families, mostly nobles, where they can be raised in a loving environment. Giving them a chance at a normal life.”

 

“Admirable,” Solas replied, taking a bite of the roasted boar. Only to hum in enjoyment a second later.

 

“Quite,” she answered, seemingly satisfied, as she turned her eyes back to her book. “I should hope to meet him someday. This King who treats all children equally. No matter their history. No matter their circumstances.”

 

“No matter their ears.”

 

Leaving those words to linger, Lalinaya went back to reading the book in her hands as Solas continued to eat in silence. While he ate, Solas could not stop himself from stealing glances at the quiet woman before him.

 

Nor could he stop all that he noticed in those quick moments.

 

How her long hair had been pulled just over her left shoulder. Leaving her right open and exposed to his purview and the warm air around them.

How her delicate fingers silently skimmed the pages of her book like the softest caresses from a lover. 

How the candlelight seemed to dance upon her warm and exposed skin like that of a joyful spirit after finding the most delightful thing in all the world. 

How she would occasionally shift the position of her legs: bending one and stretching the other and then repeating; elongating her seductive lines almost deliberately; every so often as if she was slightly restless. 

How her brow would cutely crease and her lips would pout, as she read. 

How she seemed to sigh so contentedly with nearly every breath.

 

Or, how it all made his curiosity and desire flare without restraint.

 

Letting out a quiet sigh of disappointment in himself, Solas reached for his mug of mead and took a long draw. An act completely out of character for himself, simply because he truly detested fermented alcohol made in this era. It was far too dull, the sweetness was long gone from what it used to be. A thin shadow of how it truly began. But, alas, it would do the necessary trick. The burn, a distraction from his thoughts, allowed him to put away the feelings thrumming in him and find a window of opportunity. A way to further their conversation without exposing the treacherous and lecherous thoughts suddenly running through his mind.

 

“You seem quite interested in that book of yours.” Solas inferred.

 

Lalinaya looked up him with a slight start.

 

“Varric mentioned that you liked to read.” he tried to clarify. “He seemed quite surprised by that fact, actually.”

 

“Why? Because I’m just _‘a filthy, uneducated, and unrefined, forest rat, Dalish?’_ ”

 

“What!?” Solas exclaimed in surprise. “No! Not at all. Why in the world would you think that?”

 

“It’s been said,” she said bluntly. “Not by Varric. But others.”

 

“Whispered quietly among the patrons here: Believing that I did not have the clarity of mind to understand, nor the sharpness of hearing to actually hear them, nor the observation skills to notice how they look at me as if I am something so far beneath them that I need to look up to find dirt.”

 

Solas seemed to freeze at her words, as a heavy pause filled the room and the severity of her words twisted at his heart.

 

“Who was it?” he countered a moment later, eyes narrowing. “Who was it? Who would dare say such a thing to you?”

 

“A nameless face, a faceless name,” she answered. “It matters not.”

 

“Of course it matters. If someone under the Inquisition’s authority is speaking to; or of; its Herald in such a manner, it’s their duty to deal with it. Especially if it could lead to a dangerous situation or a threat to your life...”

 

“Like this morning...” she sighed.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“It really doesn’t matter in the long run, Solas,” she explained. “The perpetrators of such slings and arrows have no teeth, nor enough constitution or skill to be a threat to me. They are just words. Hurtful words, true enough. But not words that could ever cause physical pain. That would warrant concern on anyone’s part. Especially mine.”

 

“And, it’s not like I haven’t had such insults, or worse, thrown in my direction before,” she added. “It just another part of being me, and an elf in a human’s world.”

 

“Still, it isn’t right,” Solas demanded quietly.

 

“I never said it was,” she answered. “But what is right and what is just is a matter of perspective. What you or I would deem good and proper, could be considered overreaching or overbearing to another. What you or I would deem right and just, could be considered cruel and vicious to another. Or what you or I would deem respectful and trustworthy, could be considered disrespectful and traitorous to others. So you must determine intent. Interpret their discord from their point of view and react accordingly.”

 

“This world is filled with such variables; such inconsistencies, such truths; that prudence and logic dictate that one must learn to discern discourse from the threat. To know and understand whether or not what has or is happening is this or that. And then choose.”

 

“For one who knows not how to choose their battles wisely will surely die long before the world no longer has need of them.”

 

“You have quite a prophetic look towards the world...” Solas sighed. “Wise.”

 

“Knowledge comes from education, Solas,” she replied. “But true wisdom always comes from experience, and learning from your past mistakes.”

 

“Or, the mistakes of others.”

 

“Agreed.” he nodded. “Is that why you are so weary of Cassandra?”

 

“Cassandra?” she questioned, slightly startled. “What makes you think I am weary of Cass?”

 

“Oh, wait. You’ve been talking to Varric, haven’t you?”

 

“Earlier today, yes,” Solas replied. “He mentioned that you two talked at length last night."

 

“I see.” she nodded gently. “And did you learn anything of consequence from his retelling that sated some of your curiosity about me?”

 

“How would you know that I am curious about you?” countered Solas.

 

“Because curiosity is what you are. That name you carry: Pride, it’s a good name. A strong name. But it is not who you truly are. Deep inside you’re as inquisitive as a small child just learning about their new world. A curious spirit with a desire to know, to learn, to understand.”

 

“What makes you believe that?” he questioned, sounding somewhat defensive without intending to.

 

“I am a great many things to a great many people, Solas,” she stated knowingly. “What the world perceives me as can be as varied as blades of grass upon an open field. But above all that I am, could or should be, I am one thing far more than not.”

 

“Observant.”

 

“It is one of many talents, I’m afraid,” she admitted. “But one that I can neither control nor ignore from day to day. When I look upon someone or something, whether it be for the first time or the hundredth, it is inherently instinctive for me to take in all that I see and put it to memory.”

 

“I can...” she sighed, almost sadly. “For example, remember the very first time I looked upon my mother’s face. When I was moments old. How the sweat fell from her brow. How she smiled even though her body had grown so weak. How her eyes shimmered with tears and the knowledge that it would be last time she would ever lay her eyes upon me or me, her. And how I cried in understanding.”

 

Solas frowned. He had not known that she had lost her mother so early in life. Yet the thought of having to live a life with such a memory, he thought, must have been hard to carry.

 

“Do you blame yourself?” he whispered without thinking.

 

“For my mother’s death?’ she questioned. “Not at all. My mother tried for nearly a decade to conceive. And when all hope was nearly lost, she finally had her wish granted. Though she died just days after my birth, she died happily. Knowing that her greatest wish had been fulfilled.”

 

“Yet you miss her still.”

 

“I am not a heartless monster, Solas,” she answered. “And, yet, though there are times when I secretly daydream about how my life would have been different had she lived, I do not regret my mother’s death. And, in a way, I find it more a blessing than a curse. Had she’d lived, I would have most likely never become the woman I am today.”

 

“Having been taught by the elders –numerous elders –of my clan rather than just one motherly figure, I learned more about patience, understanding, perspective, intent, and the world than I ever would have learned under just her tutelage.”

 

“My upbringing may have been more difficult in certain aspects –compared to others who had either their father or mother or both to raise them –but it was an upbringing that afforded me all the experiences and education not normally had by an average Dalish child. Learning to read like scholar, to calculate mathematics like a builder, to hunt like a master tracker, to create art like a master painter, to cook like a seasoned chef, to sew like a master seamstress, to ponder the universe like a great philosopher, to saunter through the idiosyncrasies of a person’s behavior like a talented and well-versed lady of the night, or wade through the endless political sea like an empress after a forty-year reign, are not skills a simple Dalish could ever learn from just their parents.”

 

“And, for such an opportunity, I am far more grateful than I could ever be.” she sighed. “Because I like who I am. I carry with me no regrets that weigh down my life. For I live a life that only follows one rule.”

 

“Which is?” prompted Solas, curiously.

 

“Own everything,” she replied.

 

“Own?”

 

“Many in this world do not or cannot accept their own mistakes. Their own failings. Their own choices. Or their own decisions, when things go awry.” she explained. “They differ, deflect, lie, spin, ignore, or deny their wrongdoings. Their mistakes. Never making themselves accountable for their own actions. Their own thoughts. But, more importantly, their own feelings...”

 

“They live their life constantly pulling across their field of vision a veil to obscure the truth. A mask to hide what’s beneath. Often in hopes to make the breadth of their failings more appealing. More acceptable. And choosing to forget or ignore what they’ve done. Creating a false sense of happiness. When deep down they are far more miserable than they could possibly imagine.”

 

“That sense of ignorance is something I absolutely abhor,” she added with a tone of finality. “If you cannot own up to your own failings and –instead –try to fix what you have done, or alter your behavior; your thinking, your actions; to stem the tide of your mistakes’ repeating, then you are nothing but a fool in my eyes.”

 

“Life is far too short to go through it ruining everything you touch. Without making yourself accountable for all that you’ve done. Blaming: the world, your political adversaries, your rival for a girl’s affection, that soldier that is so much better than you at swordplay simply because you are too lazy to train, that dancer that can entice all that look upon her while you stand there as a wallflower, that woman who has a happy life with a loving husband and beautiful children while you are forever alone because you’re afraid to take that leap, that noble who has more money than the Maker himself when you can’t even scrape two coppers together for a piece of bread, or that King who rules all that stands before him while you cannot even rule your own actions, is a foolish life. A life where you do nothing but waste your precious energy on envy, disdain, hate, fear, and fantastical dreams. Rather than taking life by the proverbial horns and just living the best life, you can create by your own hands.”

 

“I own my decisions. My thoughts. My feelings. My actions. And live a life accepting my failings as well as my victories. All on even ground. If I choose to turn right, rather than left, I do so without regrets –no matter the outcome. Because it is a choice I made.”

 

“You are quite a confident person, Herald...er...Lalinaya.” Solas began, stammering for a moment. “Strong in your conviction. But confidence does not always equal being right.”

 

“I never said it did,” she smirked. “Though I live my life this way that does not mean I don’t make bad decisions. That I don’t mess up now and then. That I don’t make mistakes. I am not infallible, Solas. Nor am I perfect. I, just like every person in this world, learn as I go. Learn as I live. And act accordingly.”

 

“But where I differ from most is that I always accept my mistakes...”

 

“And learn from them,” Solas concluded for her.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Very well. Would you care to entertain a scenario for me? So that I may better understand your philosophy on life?”

 

“Oh? A hypothetical?”

 

“Yes. Would you be interested?”

 

“Of course.” she smiled. “Please...”

 

“Let’s...” Solas began, pausing for a few moments to better think of a way to ask what he had in mind without giving too much away and outing to whom he was referring. “Say that you are a farmer’s wife.”

 

“Ok...”

 

“And you are married to a man who treats you poorly.”

 

“How poorly?” she interrupted. “Be specific.”

 

“He takes care of your necessities: food, clothing, shelter. You do not go without but you live nowhere near a comfortable lifestyle. Where there are no financial worries.”

 

“Ok.” she nodded.

 

“However, he treats you as a slave. Making you do all the housework; cleaning, cooking, mending, etc.; on top of making you work the fields from sun up to sun down. All the while expecting you to accomplish everything on your own while he...let’s say...drinks the day away. Getting drunk every night.”

 

“And when you are unable to accomplish all the tasks he has forced you to do, he becomes furious and beats you mercilessly. And often.”

 

“He’s a dead man,” she answered instantaneously.

 

“You would kill him?” Solas replied, startled.

 

“No man puts his hands on me in anger,” she replied. “Without retaliation.”

 

“Understood.” nodded Solas. “But what if I were to amend this scenario. And along with said husband, you had two small children to take care of. To raise.”

 

“What would you do to get out of that situation?”

 

“That would depend on what resources were available to me.”

 

“Ok.” nodded Solas. “Then allow me to add another part of the story.”

 

“Let’s say that the situation that you are living in at that moment is like a plague sweeping the land.” he continued. “That every wife within your country lives the same life. Completely oppressed. Always beaten and mistreated. All with children in tow. You live your life like this for years. Being beaten and trodden upon like something so insignificant that you lose all hope..."

"Then, one day, a man you do not know comes to you. Walking upon the road just outside your homestead. And strikes up a conversation. In said conversation, he learns of your situation. Admits to knowing that it is the same situation every woman in the area is suffering. And offers you a way out.”

 

“A way to leave your husband. To be free from his tyranny. And find a life where you can be happy.”

 

“But?” she answered knowingly.

 

“But.” he nodded. “To save you, someone else would have to die. An innocent. One you did not know.”

 

“Would you accept his offer?”

 

“I am unsure,” she replied.

 

“Unsure?” countered Solas.

 

“What I would do, how I would choose, would be different depending on certain variables.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“This man. Is he trustworthy? Does he have said ability, truly? Or is he offering such a way out with an ulterior motive? If he has such an ability, how did he come to it?”

 

“The children. Are they old enough to travel without being a burden? Without slowing us down. Are they even well enough to travel? Not malnourished? Not unhealthy?”

 

“The person who will die so that I may be free. Is it another such as me? A wife and mother, beaten and belittled. Or her abuser? Will only one die? Or will there be more than just one death?”

 

“If I accept, what will –then– become of me and my children? Will I be taken to a safe place far away from my husband? Will I be taken to a place, where there will be a home in which to live? Food to eat? A life, for me and my children? Will there be more suffering there? Maybe even more suffering than what I suffer under my husband’s hand?”

 

“The man is a wealthy, noble, mage with the heart of a loving father and the power to protect you. The children are old enough, and healthy enough, for travel.” Solas answered. “The person who will die is another such as you or an innocent child. For every one he saves, another will die. Equally. And you will be taken to a place where there is no home, no secure source of food, with political and social unrest, crime, and disease. Where you will start over. From the basics without any guarantee that you, or your children, will survive to old age.”

 

“Then, no. I would not accept his offer.”

 

“But refusing would trap yourself in such a life until you died –either by natural causes, an accident, or –more likely– by your own husband’s hands.”

 

“I will not save my own ass in spite of others,” she answered. “In the scenario, you paint, choosing to accept the man’s offer would be a decision that would lead to far too much suffering than what I would be currently enduring. Leaving me with an even more uncertain future than that in which I already had. And inflicting undue misery upon another for no sake save for my own.”

 

“But what if I told you that if you do not take his offer you, or your children, would then become one of those who could be sacrificed for another’s freedom. That you or your children could die so that another could be free?”

 

“Then, so be it,” she answered. “I would rather die so that another could live. Rather than to choose selfishness and sacrifice an innocent just so I could be happy.”

 

“I would rather take my own fate into my own hands. Kill the husband. And then spend the rest of my days trying my best to help those who had shared my fate find some happiness of their own.”

 

“You would start a rebellion?” questioned Solas.

 

“If need be,” she answered confidently. “I would do what I must. What I thought was right, what would be just, what was in my power, and let fate decide if my actions were worthy of success. I could not live my life knowing another was suffering from that which I could free them from. I could not live my life in ignorance and obliviousness.”

 

“That is not who I am.”

 

“And, what if –in the end –your actions saved the people. But by doing so you ended up condemning them to a life of poverty. A life of struggle. Of uselessness. Where the world looked down upon them as nothing but a burden. The Rabble. A drain on society. Not worthy of care. Of concern. Or even compassion.”

 

“Would you leave them to the fate that you so succinctly handed them...Or...”

 

“I would save them again. Then again. And then again. As many times as it took. So when all my work was finally done, and my life was finally at an end, I could look upon the good life I had finally managed to grant them with a satisfied and humbled smile.”

 

“But what of the futility of it all?”

 

“Nothing is futile, Solas,” she answered with another smirk. “Not as long as you still have a breath left within you. There is always time to try once more. The trick is to never give up. To never lose hope. For when hope is lost...so, too, is the future that could be.”

 

“Very well said.” Solas nodded, his curiosity sated. “You continue to surprise me, Lalinaya. Far more than I expected. And, even, far more than I had hoped.”

 

“Just wait, Solas.” she chuckled softly. “I’m just getting started.”

 

 


	6. Solas: Taunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the quiet, emptiness of Haven's tavern, their conversation continues. But, the night suddenly takes on a disquieting air that Solas had not expected and he is baited into doing something that he hadn't even dreamed he'd be willing to do.

 

 

 

“And you?”

 

“Pardon?” Solas responds, looking across to the woman before him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“What would you do in such a situation?” she clarifies. “Would you accept his offer? Or remain behind and accept your fate?”

 

Solas closes his eyes for a moment and thinks on his answer carefully. What answer he would truly give would reveal more about his true self than he is willing. Something about her calming tone makes him almost want to speak the words that would tell far too much. But, he knows he cannot do that.

 

Dismissing such willingness, he shakes his head for a moment and answers.

 

“I would do neither,”

 

“You would do nothing?”

 

“I did not say that,” he counters.

 

“Then what are you saying? Speak properly, Solas.”

 

“I would flee,” he answers. “And seek a way to be free on my own.”

 

As his words pass through his lips and float in the air, Lalinaya closes her eyes and frowns. The weight of their decent is not accepting. It is in disappointment. And, her disbelief in his answer does not go unnoticed by Solas.

 

“You disagree with my choice?” he questions.

 

“In a way...” she breathes out, only to halt her words and sigh.

 

Her frown immediately deepens as she lowers her head. Her mind whirling with thoughts unknown to him. And for a tick of time, she is silent. It is in that silence that Solas begins to feel that perhaps he has said something that has disquieted her. Has upset her. And that thought disturbs him more than he would have thought. For Lalinaya is the key to ending the horrific encroachment of the Breach. And his necessity to stay in her good graces is paramount for them to succeed. So that he may continue with his plans. It would not bode well for him to alienate himself from her so early. And, he knows it.

 

“I have upset you?” he says gently, his tone is almost compassionate, understanding, and comforting.

 

“So to speak.”

 

“How so?”

 

“It is hard to say,” she replies before suddenly smirking and instantly changing her tone of voice –dropping it almost a full octave and sounding sultrier than what he thinks she is intending. “It’s just...”

 

“I find myself wondering...”

 

“About?” he questions.

 

“I wonder about a great many things, Solas.” she continues, her tone unchanging. “About the world as we know it. How it will change. And, how _we_ will change along with it.”

 

“How to deal with the hand I have been dealt with. How to do what needs to be done with the minimal cost of life and liberty.”

 

“How to bring peace to this place. Both within these walls and to the world outside them. And to the hearts that reside within and without.”

 

“How to handle the vastly different people who now look up to me for answers. How to get along with them. How to trust them, and how to make them trust me in return.”

 

“And how to save a world that would see me written out of history, simply because I do not subscribe to their idiotic idyllic vision of their world.”

 

“But, what I find myself wondering most of all...in this instance,” she continues, finally turning to face him and leaning forward ever so slightly, giving a nearly perfect view of her breasts. “Is how long it will take before you finally realize that what lies you tell yourself, and tell others, will be words forever lost on me.”

 

Her words are accusatory and carry an air of weighted knowing.

 

“What are you insinuating?” he counters. Surprised both by her words and the sudden feeling of dread that settles in his heart at that moment.

 

“You tell me, Hahren,” she replies. Though her words speak to a nearly known deception, practically daring him to admit it, that sultry tone invoked just moments ago still remains.

 

It is a challenge. He knows. But he will not rise to the bait.

 

“I’m sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Herald,” he answers dismissively.  His tone now carrying an edge of warning with her added title.

 

“Do you not?” she questions almost cheekily.

 

“Then, you surprise me more than to be expected.” she cuts –almost gently, yet the challenge in her words remains. “I did not take you for an unobservant, unknowing fool.”

 

“But...I guess, it seems, that I’ve misunderstood you to be far more than you seem.”

 

“Or,” she smiled almost devilishly. “Perhaps not.”

 

“It’s a sad state of affairs, in any case.” she sighs, suddenly standing without preamble. Her intent to leave, apparent. “And a shame.”

 

“What is?” he questions, still feeling defensive –yet knowing full well that if Lalinaya knows something about his true identity it would do him well to know for sure. And to deal with it. If it came to that.

 

Lalinaya simply chuckles and moves to leave the tavern. As she passes him, however, she suddenly stops and turns to him. With a smile upon her face, she leans in –close to his ear –and with a breathy tone, speaks again.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know...” she whispers, before adding pointedly. “Little Wolf.”

 

Balking at that term of endearment –or condemnation, he does not know –something snaps within Solas at that moment and a flood of emotions overtake him. Anger. Concern. Determination. Anxiety. Guilt. Rage and fear. And it is by the fear and rage that he suddenly moves. Reaching out to her before she can retreat from his side, he grabs her by the arm and angrily jerks her back in front of him. She stumbles backward, connecting her lower back with the edge of the table with a great amount of force. Sending all the dishes from its top skidding across its surface and falling to the ground. The pitcher of mead instantly shattering. Before she can recover, or he even realizes it, Solas is on his feet and he immediately advances. His hand shooting out from his side and wrapping around her throat in an instant.

 

 “Is that a challenge?” he practically growls, teeth flashing, as he squeezes her throat aggressively; pinning her down; and leans in.

 

“With the likes of you?” she scoffs almost playfully, her tone both challenging and breathy. “Always.”

 

“You dare mock me?” he growls, tightening his grip a little more.

 

“Would I dare?” she taunts, with a mischievous smile. Her tone never changing or showing even the slightest hint of discomfort from the hand upon her throat.

 

It is almost, as if, she is enjoying it.

 

“Don’t you toy with me, woman,” Solas growls. “Tell me what you know!”

 

“Why should I?” she replies coyly. “What benefit would I gain if I were to show my hand so early in this game?”

 

“This is no game!”

 

“Isn’t it?” she replies, her tone still coy. “I push you. You push me. Back and forth. Over and over. We go. Until one of us finally snaps and admits defeat.”

 

“Then you are at a disadvantage,” he warns. “I was never one to give up so easily.”

 

“That remains to be seen.”

 

“Have you no fear?”

 

“Fear?” she chuckles. “Of whom, you?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Then it is you who are the foolish one.”

 

“Perhaps.” she smiles. “But fool as I may be, you; my dear little wolf; surely take the cake. You think by doing all this. Intimidating me to spill whatever secrets I may carry. Will result in my complacency. That I will simply submit to your will, willing. And because...why? Because you are a man and I am simply an insignificant woman?”

 

“Or, is it simply because you think yourself better –more powerful –than I?”

 

“I could kill you right here... right now,” Solas informed angrily. “And, no one would suspect me.”

 

“But you won't,” she replied, her tone falling deeper into a more seductive tone.

 

“You sound so confident of that.”

 

“Because I am,” she replied. “You need me Solas. More than you realize. And, no matter, what I say your anger cannot change that fact.”

 

“Without me, the world will hasten to its end far soon that anyone would dare wish...or plan.”

 

“And I know you do not want that...” she adds almost knowingly. “At least, not yet.”

 

“You know nothing,” he growls once more. “Let alone what I would ever want!”

 

“Are you sure?” she practically moans. “Or is that what you think simply because you cannot dare to believe that I am clever enough to see you for what you really are?”

 

“And can see what you truly desire?” she added softly, punctuating the last. “In...Every...capacity.”

 

“My desires are none of your concern.”

 

“Oh,” she breathes huskily. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, little wolf.”

 

“Your desires become more and more apparent every day.” she continues. Teasing him with her words. “And are far more real than even you know.”

 

“I know what you desire...” she sighs seductively. “What you secretly beg for. What swims through your veins, without restraint. Wishing, wanting, and waiting. Left unfulfilled. Yet, always yearning for.”

 

Her words stir Solas, more and more. He knows he should not listen to her. Knows that with every syllable uttered she is baiting him to lose control. To give in to her own agenda. What she herself intends. But he knows he must fight it. He must not give in.

 

But her words, he cannot ignore.

 

Anger flares once more at the audacity of the woman before him. How dare she say these things to him? How dare she presume that she knows anything about what he truly wants? What he truly desires. What lay in the shadows of his heart. Forcing away her thoughts, though caught up in them, he drops his hand to her thigh and presses her down while simultaneously tightening his grip on her throat. A bloom of red instantly creeps across her skin. Crawling up her throat and blossoming across her cheeks. Yet, she gives nothing but a smile, in response.

 

Her unflinching pride; and daring; is stunning. And infuriating.

 

“Have I offended your precious sensibilities, great Hahren?” she teases breathily. “Do I now deserve your ire? So much that you would willing bestow retribution?”

 

“Do you wish, nothing more, than to punish me...” she suddenly sighs wantonly. “For my insolence...”

 

“To make me reap what I have sown?”

 

Solas instantly tightens his grip with force, this time truly cutting off her air and threatening her life.

 

“Yes...” he growls forcefully.

 

“Then,” she pleads softly through the pain. “Do it.”

 

Her provocation is deliberate. And, Solas grits his teeth.

 

“Or, are you a coward?”

 

“I am no coward!” he counters loudly.

 

“Then claim the justice your wounded pride now demands.” she fires back. “And, do it!”

 

The anger of Solas’ heart explodes from within him carry not only the rage he fears at her deliberate taunting but something even more visceral. More primal. In his head, his conscious mind screams to stand down. To not fall for her seductive vexation. But his body refuses to listen. Tightening his hold upon her neck and thigh, he invades her space with a dominating step. With no care of how he will be perceived or accepted, caring not for how her insolence may flare at his actions, he pulls her towards him and crashes his lips upon hers.

 

The kiss is forceful, domineering, and without restraint. As lips force themselves upon the unwitting, intentions clear. He is determined. Resolute. He will make her submit. Make her give in. Maker her concede to his supremacy and rue the moment she dared to provoke him so.

 

But, she is no weakling. No damsel in distress in need of saving. And she will not concede so easily. Meeting his every movement, she gives just as much as she receives. And, soon, their kisses turn from a match of ironclad wills to those of desperate desire.

 

Solas releases her thigh, lost in the heat of their kiss, and reaches for the soft leather cording, laced and tied, at the front of her low-cut gown with confidence. Unlacing the knot at the top with nimble fingers of an expert. Before sliding his hand down to the bottom of the weaving and pulling loose the entire patchwork of cording holding the front of her dress closed. Allowing the silky material to fall open and freeing the unbound prize within.

 

Lalinaya moans into his mouth as his hand finds purchase upon her ample breasts and kneads their unbelievable softness with both tenderness and strength. The feel of his hand, so seductively and excruciatingly simple yet all the more complex, sends shockwaves of pleasure through her in an instant.

 

Their kiss deepens ever still and Solas finds himself consumed by her very being. As his desire, once hidden deep within him and often pushed aside, crawls mercilessly to the surface. And, no matter how his plans would demand, he knows he cannot stop. Not now. Now, that he has fallen so far.

 

His desire burns through him like molten gold. Shimmering and shining like the sun. Calling forth all who look upon it to bask within its fiery glow. And Solas cannot help but answer its alluring call. Falling deep and deeper into its grasp, until consciousness of his actions disappears entirely. For her touch is like water to the parched. And, he is so very thirsty.

 

Need builds. Climbing quickly to a crescendo of a prophetic epiphany long-since overdue. He is breathing hard. Mind muddled with nothing but the thought of her. Of this moment. And his urgency grows. He wants her. More than anything he has ever wanted before. And, he will have her.

 

Slipping his hand from the rounded mounds of feather-like softness, he lets his hand descend to her thigh once more. But, it does not linger there. It ascends against the creamy white skin of her toned legs before disappearing under the split hem of her gown. It moves ever upward, Climbing to the precipice of her hip before gracefully slipping around her and her pulling even closer.

 

Solas growls into their kiss as his hands find nothing but bare skin waiting for him. The truest part of her is unbound and uncovered without shame. And that knowledge stirs him even more. To know that she is not ashamed of what her birth, and time, has gifted her. To know that she has chosen to never be bound by any constraints of the world. A free spirit, carefree and knowing. Worldly of the wild, untamed reaches of her heart. And, to the pleasure that can be found within.

 

His caresses soon turn possessive as his mind reconciles with so much he had never know of her. Compelled to seek her dearest truth with a preciousness and respect deserving only of the well past her years. He deepens the kiss once more, his tongue delving past her delicious lips in earnest desire. And allows his roaming hand to find that which he had yet to explore.

 

As long, slender fingers slip between her thighs and relish the feel of her slick warmth, Lalinaya mewls into his kiss, and allows her eyes to close. Reveling in the sensation as he lavishes affection upon her more and more. Her hands, once so very idle, reach for him at that moment. Exploring the taut muscles of his chest before sliding up to find purchase around both the stern hand that remains upon her throat and that of his face. She squeezes his wrist, a silent plea, but his grip does not falter. Answering her touch with an increase in pressure. Calling forth a moan so deep and pleased that it rumbles through her body seductively.

 

With her acceptance so lusciously given, Solas’ resolve breaks. That thin line of restraint snapping with it. Too far gone now. Too unwilling to stop. He quickly pulls his nimble fingers from her warm velvet and sets his yearning free of its confines. His movements are quick. Hastened by the unrestrained desire flowing through his veins. And in a desperate moment of need, he finds the home her own desire has prepared for him. Sliding into the comforting warmth of her core.

 

Consumed by the feeling, Lalinaya breaks free of their kiss instantly. A pleasured moan escaping her lips as her head falls back and her arms slink around the man in her arms. His movements, a pure seduction of his very own, fill her in a way she could never imagine. Conjuring thoughts of a future not known to her. Where days and years pass in unnatural bliss. Every night the world is upended. Turning black to white. Wrong to right. And death to life. The heavens on earth. Made just for them in the stillness of the night. Untouched for all eternity. And, unending.

 

His movements quicken as his hand roams her skin. Prophetic words whispered in flowing ancient Elvhen, pass through his lips unheeded. Proclaiming her goddess-like beauty so profound and her indomitable will all-encompassing. Praising every part of her being, like that of a devoted and willing follower praising its maker. His desire, superseding all imagining, grows as his heart races at the very thought of her. Screaming from the depth of his very soul. Begging to have. To hold. To lay claim for all time. Awash with every sensation his mind can no longer think of any more than her. His eyes can no longer see anything more than her. And, his body –his weakening flesh– wants no more than her. For eternity.

 

Desire left willfully unchecked and unrestrained forces him to go farther. Pushing toward that brink just beyond the horizon. He steps up his movement and as her breathy and sinfully seductive moans grow in frequency and volume, Solas realizes that only mere moments remain. The end of their joining is nigh. And, his mind begs for it to not show its face. To be gone. And allow him to revel in the joy that she brings for the rest of his days.

 

But, his body demands his quick end. And, there is no way to forestall it. As their moment begins to quickly come to a close, Solas' movements become no longer lengthy and languid. Turning sharp and fast, until they are breathing in tandem with every thrust. The moment builds and builds. Climbing ever higher. Until, as if the world found its very own destruction, the heavenly pleasure of their climaxes explodes in a cacophony of sensations that brings forth their heady calls of ultimate happiness. Washing across their spirits in waves. Waxing and waning like a turbulent sea. Unaffected by time and space.

 

Moments pass in a languid blur as their pleasure-filled dream slowly fades and their mind become their own once more.

 

It is at that moment when reality suddenly crashes down upon Solas’ shoulders. And with it, come the inevitable guilt and shame that has always haunted his steps. But, like a snake in the grass waiting to strike down its prey, guilt and shame carry unwanted visitors upon their backs.

 

Fear and Panic.

 

Suddenly he is awash with a crushing sense of cruel irony. The reality of what he; the always prim and proper; respectful and wise; worldly companion; has done. What, in a moment of weakness, he has dared allow.

 

Alarmed by his own actions, Solas slips from her comforting arms is fit of pure bewilderment. So quickly, and without the measured control he always portrayed, he stumbles back. His legs connect with his recently vacated chair and he collapses upon its seat with a thud. Guilt, fear, and shame rushing through him like an accusatory stampede. Reminding him of the truth of what he has done and what will come soon after. Betrayal of his most cherished beliefs. And the sacrifice of the path to achieving his goal.

 

In a single moment, he has thrown away all advantage he once held. In a single moment, he has put the fate of The People in jeopardy. And, in one single moment, he has changed their relationship forever.

 

So mired in his self-deprecating, condemning, and disparaging thoughts, Solas does not realize that Lalinaya has moved from her place against the table until he feels her gentle hand caress his cheek. Pulling his eyes away from the spiraling abyss, of the nothingness of his thoughts, he looks up only to see gentle eyes looking back at him. Eyes that carry with them a soft acceptance. Previously unseen.

 

She looks at him then. Searching for something that she wishes to see. And, yet, does not find what she seeks. She sighs. And, with it, Solas feels his cheek warm suddenly as the smell of the raw Fade assaults his senses. Weakness immediately descends upon him. Sapping his remaining strength. And, soon, his eyes begin to close of their own accord. Calling forth the darkness of unconsciousness with them. Until, reality disappears and he is lost to its calming embrace –his world going black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lalinaya is quite cunning, managing to bait Solas into letting go. But, the questions still remain. Does she truly know who Solas really is? Or, was it all a ruse simply to manipulate him into losing control? Or, both?
> 
> Stay tuned to find out! 
> 
> Author's Note: (About this Chapter in particular) Normally, as with most of my stories, sex scenes are usually implied (having happened off-camera, so to speak) but with this series, such artist direction cannot be taken. And, as such, I am forced to depict them. While I do have extensive experience in writing such scenes, with other works not on this platform, I tend to be more visual than emotional with them or more emotional than visual. Often switching back and forth between sub-scenes. And that may come off somewhat disconnected. I do apologize if it seems that way, however, and I hope that you will enjoy the scene as it stands -and please let me know if you do. I would love to hear/read your thoughts on any updates I release.


	7. Solas: Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas tries to deal with the emotional aftermath of his loss of control in the tavern with Lalinaya as fear takes the reins within him and threatens to ruin everything he has tried to accomplish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick post, may need edits later.

 

 

Confusion, fear, and disillusionment, invades his senses the moment clarifying consciousness dares to return to him. Opening his eyes faintly and straining uncomfortably against the low light of the tavern’s waning fire, Solas clambers for any sense of understanding he can find. For a minute moment, his mind is nothing but a blur of inconceivable and incoherent thought. Jumbled beyond measure. As he tries to make sense of what has just happened to him. A minute more passes and suddenly a slew of images flash across eyes. Recollections of the disastrous night with an even more disastrous end.

 

Pulling his eyes down from the ceiling, where they had settled in unconsciousness, he immediately scans the room for any sign of Lalinaya. Instantly stiffening at the strangeness that awaits his gaze. The table; the one that had been cleared so violently by his attack on their Herald; is pristine. The covered silver trays, mugs, and; even; the clay pitcher that had shattered upon the ground at her impact are all sitting quietly upon its top. Seemingly undisturbed in perpetuity. Showing no damage at all.

 

 And there is no sign, not even an inkling that she had ever been there at all.

 

With fear quickly creeping upon him like a predator in the night, he swiftly stands and allows his eyes to take in the rest of the tavern. And, again, he sees nothing out of the ordinary. No sign that anyone but him had been in the tavern all this time. Nor any sign that anything is out of place.

 

It was almost, as if, everything that had occurred during his time in the tavern had never happened.

 

And, that thought chills Solas to the bone in the eerie silence awaiting him.

 

A flashing thought quickly reminds him of his own physical predicament. The fact that when he’d passed out in the tavern, some unknown hours ago, his attire had been in disarray. Left open and revealing to anyone who could stumble upon him. So, he turns his eyes unto himself. Marveling worriedly a second later at what he sees. Or, more importantly, what he does not see.

 

Aside from a few wrinkles from where he had been sitting improperly in the chair during his unnatural sleep, not a thread is out of place and no coupling, buckle, or tie upon his ensemble is undone.

 

Suddenly a noise echoes in the distance. The sound of advancing voices.

 

Panic; once, setting in slowly; slams into him instantly at the sound. His mind suddenly in disarray at the strangeness of it all. As nothing makes sense. His heart rate immediately increases as the panic quickly churns within him more and more, and anxiety tries to overwhelm him in the blink of an eye. He suddenly feels the need to run, to flee, and to hide. To get away from the situation as soon as possible and disappear. Before someone finds him and starts to ask questions. The feeling is nearly overwhelming. Stronger than any feeling he has ever felt before. And, he cannot take it. Turning swiftly he makes a bee-line for the tavern door, rushes out and sprints back to his cabin without even bothering to close the door behind him.

 

When he manages to make it to his own lodgings, he darts into the quiet space, slams the door closed behind him and collapses against it before dropping to the ground in a tiny flash of relief. Pulling his knees to his chest a second later, however, he buries his face in his shaking hands seconds before all of the swirling feelings within him consume every single one of his thoughts. The turmoil is as violent as a hurricane. Overwhelming and all-consuming. And, utterly destructive to every fiber of his well-constructed, and maintained and measured countenance.

 

He is a mess, as is his mind, as panicked thoughts consume him. Fear, the most voracious cause of all, stings him mercilessly. Twisting the knife of guilt within him. What he has done, what he had allowed, has ruined everything that he has been trying to accomplish. Anything he has been trying to cultivate. And, any hope of staying by Lalinaya’s side and ceasing the destruction of the world by the Breach is long-since passed. There is no way that he can salvage any of it. Not, now. Not after what he has done.

 

To force himself upon her, breaking the decorum he so meticulously created to ensure his calming anonymity, and allowing himself to corrupt her so cruelly is the worst thing he could have possibly done to her. Has done, to anyone in his entire life. And he is awash with pure, unadulterated shame. In a brief moment of weakness, he allowed his anger and fear to cloud his judgment and, because of it, she will be forever changed.

 

Forfeited, now, is the sincerity he tried to portray. Forfeited, now, is the trust he had begun to cultivate. Forfeited, now, is any hope of the People’s return. And, all because he could not restrain himself.

 

All, because he could not keep the wolf within him –that secretly wanted her –at bay.

 

The feeling of loss and shame crushes him at that moment. But, it is not the loss of the People’s perceived chance at resurrection and restoration that weighs down his heart the most. As his ancient promise deems it to be. It is to her that the shame centers. That tortures him with a very real pain far too heavy to truly bear. He cannot believe what he has done. That he, in such a moment of weakness, not only allowed himself to lose control and unleash the primal nature of the wolf within him but allowed himself to press such an advantage without a moment’s thought. To take such advantage of a woman who could possibly know absolutely nothing. A woman who could be completely innocent in all things. And punish her deliberate taunting with the violence of the worse kind. All because he could not maintain a sliver of restraint. Simply because he could not withstand her indescribable allure.

 

“What have I done...” he cries out quietly. His voice shaking.

 

The magnitude of his actions finally consume him completely with that one question and the emotions barely restrained within him are unleashed. Regretful and shame-fill tears begin to fall down his cheeks in their irreverent and poignant proving of his unforgivable guilt as he buries his face deeper into his trembling hands. Too far gone to keep his decorum. Too far gone to show any calmness or fortitude of will. He cannot stem his emotions for even a moment more. The cruel duality of this moment forever etched down his face. In a moment that hasn’t occurred in five millennia. A moment where he has truly allowed himself to be the man that no one ever sees. A man of emotion. With pride washed away. Vanished. Leaving nothing but the truest part of himself to be seen in the silence of his loneliness and shame. And, stripped raw of any falsity or mask of indifference.

 

And, all, because of her.

 

Time passes in the quietness of the moment where only the sound of his gentle sobbing can be heard almost inaudibly. He cannot restrain nor command the emotions no matter how much he wishes he could. So he allows himself such a moment of weakness. Does not try to push it down. To cease such actions. And gives in to the emotions as they come. As they dwarf his very own pride with their sorrowful march down his face. Left to flow freely, unhindered.

 

Solas’ emotional outburst slowly ends sometime later and with the strange relief that comes with its end, a new emotion invades. This time it is more panic. But stemming not from what he has done, but of what will unknowingly come after. For consequences will always find their way to the unjust. And, he is no exception. With panic’s assault, questions to his safety come to the forefront. The worry of what will happen to him now that he has done the unthinkable.

 

In his rational mind, he knows the possible outcomes of such actions. Either Lalinaya will accept what he has done quietly, giving no knowledge to another about what happened in that quiet tavern last night and taking such a secret to her grave. Or, she will allow her sense of justice to spur her into action. Going directly to her Commander with the allegations of his misconduct. His assault upon her. And calling upon Cullen’s unflinching sense of justice and retribution to deal with the man who would dare take advantage of Andraste’s chosen Herald. With as much vengeance as he desires. All in pursuit of punishing the _monster_ that dared to hurt her.

 

He has no doubt that the Commander would see to it that he is punished in the cruelest way imaginable should his actions become known. The man’s sense of justice has always been like a beacon lighting a path through the darkness of the world. Unshakable and unchanging. And, the possible thought that he could ignore such cruelty holds no true merit. Cullen will come for him if his deeds are known. And Solas knows it.

 

It is to this thought that Solas slides his hand from his face and takes stock in his surroundings. Turning his eyes to the window to gauge the time what has passed since he awoke in the tavern. He finds, quickly thereafter, that time has not allowed him much reprieve. As dawn’s first light has recently blanketed the sky signally the day’s beginning.

 

The village will soon be alight with life once again. And, time is running short.

 

Thoughts of the moment Cullen will come for him suddenly fill his thoughts. Imaginings of soldiers surrounding his cabin and angrily beating upon his door. The sound of cracking wood as the only portal to his quarters is broken open. And the vision of massive Templars invading the space, with Cullen furiously on their heels, abound.

 

And, with such imaginings, Solas’ suddenly feels the need to flee more than any moment in his entire long life. With panic and fear controlling his every action, he immediately stands, rushes across the room, and retrieves his pack from under his reading table. In a flurry of the moment, spurred on by the uncontrollable need to gather his things quickly so that he may leave this place before the inevitable knock upon his door comes, he hurries to find the last remnants of his life within Haven’s walls. Stuffing them quickly inside the weathered cloth bag as fast as possible. In a matter of moments all that he owns, the pieces of his meager existence as it now stands, are all put in their place. The only thing that remains is his staff. Turning his eyes to the corner of the room. He spies it standing there and quickly retrieves it before returning to his reading table. The moment he reaches for his pack once again, however, his world immediately freezes as the sound of an angry, heavy pounding suddenly echoes from his very own door.

 

Awash with an instantaneous sense of doom, he cannot move. Cannot breathe. As the conclusion to the horrible things he has done has seemingly caught up with him far more quickly than he had ever expected.

 

He quickly takes stock of his options –what routes and means must he take to secure not only his safety but his freedom– and his eyes, once again, move to take in the space of his cabin. With an emphasis on the windows in the room as the thought of climbing out and escaping in such a way flashes across his mind. However, he has no choice but to dismiss that idea almost immediately as he realizes that with their size there would be no way he would ever fit. That fact only solidifying his predicament even more and confirming that his only chance of escape remains with the only door to his little hovel. The door that at this moment is currently being guarded and occupied by an unknown force.

 

His mind instantly fills with the harrowing thoughts of how he can manage to flee and what will happen when that door finally opens. What lengths he will have to go to, to secure his freedom. And what destruction and death he may leave behind all for the sake of such a goal. He questions himself at that moment. Wondering if he would be truly willing to go so far. To harm others. Even to kill those who he has built a repertoire with over the last few weeks. Simply so that he does not get caught.

 

Could he truly end Cullen’s life just to remain free? Or, even Varric’s? Could he truly be that cruel?

 

Solas immediately shakes away such thoughts. Unable to face the very real possibility that he could actually be forced to do such a thing. Even if it is truly within his ability, to snuff out another life simply to save his own skin...it is something he never wanted to do again. No matter the circumstance. No matter the cost. Too many good people suffered at his hands so long ago. Simply because he could not allow his purpose to be halted before it was achieved. Far too many souls lost their lives, bleed their very last drop of life-blood, at his very own hands. And many more would do so before the end came. To take another life simply because he had no other choice...he couldn’t bear the thought. Or, the sorrow that would haunt him even more than his past already did.

 

But, if it came to it, he knows that he will ultimately do what needed to be done. No matter how much more his spirit, his soul, will suffer for it in the end.

 

The knock sounds again, this time louder than before and carrying with it a sense of perceivable urgency, and Solas realizes that a decision must be made. A plan must be contrived. Or, else, he will not leave this place and keep his freedom. With a deep sigh, he takes a moment to formulate an exit strategy that can be adapted should the need for violence make itself known. And makes a decision.

 

He will play the fool. The unknowing. On the outside. But be ready for any eventuality that may show its face.

 

Leaving his pack behind, he grabs his staff and makes his way to the door. Before opening it, however, he leans his staff against the wall just behind where the door will open. Once in place, he turns his attention to the door and, to produce the most convincing scene of obliviousness he can muster, he quickly tosses his clothing to make it seem like he had been awoken from sleep abruptly. When he finishes, he takes a cursory glance at his façade and lifts one hand to his eye; to mimic the act of rubbing his sleep away, and opens the door slowly.

 

He cannot stem the surprise that flickers across his features the moment the door swings open and he sees what has truly been waiting for him all this time.

 

A very familiar dwarf.

 

Before Solas can even express the man’s name, however, Varric pushes past him and enters the space without a word. Grabbing the door from Solas’ grip instantly and slamming it shut with haste. With a deep sigh, full of relief, the dwarf turns and immediately reaches up to rub both his arms as a shiver crawls through him.

 

“Damn,” Varric intones. “It colder than a Witch of the Wild’s tit out there!”

 

With those salacious and animated words, some of Solas’ tension breaks. But, not all. For he is no fool to be lulled into a sense of safety so easily offered. Even by Varric.

 

“Can...” Solas slowly answers, venturing delicately so as to not raise suspicion. “I help you with something Master Tethras?”

 

“Oh?” he replies. Sounding surprised for some unknown reason, before turning his attention to the elf looking at him with a reserved yet curious expression. “Right. Sorry. Did I wake you?”

 

“Yes...but just.” Solas lies. Keeping up the ruse as best as he can.

 

“Apologies,” Varric replies. “I didn’t intend on waking you. But, I just had to check.”

 

“And, what is it that you think you need to check in my room?”

 

“I was wondering if Lala was hiding out in here,” Varric answers with a slightly worried look upon his face, as he scans Solas’ cabin for any sign of her. “You haven’t seen her this morning have you?”

 

“Should I have?” he counters, aiming to keep his answers noncommittal.

 

“I thought...maybe,” the dwarf sighs before dismissing his own thoughts. “Guess not, then.”

 

“Wouldn’t it be more prudent to check her own quarters, rather than mine?”

 

“I already did,” Varric answers curtly. “No answer, when I knocked.”

 

“Thought she may have stopped by here on her way to the apothecary...or something.” he sighed. “But, I guess I was wrong.”

 

“And, just, why are you looking for Herald so early in the morning?” Solas calmly counters. “If I may ask.”

 

“Oh? Nothing really.” the dwarf replies. “Yesterday I was telling her about my morning hunting trips, catching game for the cooks here, and she volunteered herself to accompany me this morning. So I went to go get her before I headed out, but she wasn’t there. She was so adamant about going at first. So, I was worried something happened to her. Or something.”

 

“She doesn’t usually break any promise she makes. So it’s odd that I can’t find her.”

 

“Did you check...the tavern?” he asks slowly. “Perhaps she may be grabbing some food before the hunt.”

 

“Not likely,” Varric answers, shaking his head in dismissal. “Just ran into Flissa before I came here. She’s running behind this morning. Hasn’t even had the chance to open yet and won't be for at least another hour.”

 

“Have you spoken to the Commander? I’m sure if anyone knows where the Herald has run off to, it would be him. Or, perhaps, the Nightingale.”

 

“I won't go to Leliana unless it’s absolutely necessary. You and I both know what would happen if she suddenly found out that Andraste’s Herald just up and disappeared.”

 

“True enough.” Solas nods.

 

“As for Curly, there’s no way he’d know where Lala has gotten off to. Not, after the night he had last night.”

 

“What happened last night?”

 

“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there. Well, Lala and I managed to convince Curly and the Seeker to join us for a few games of Diamondback and a few rounds of drinking. Using the _Loser drinks_ rules.” Varric explains. “And, Curly _did not_ have a good night. Killed far too many pints to even stand straight. It took every bit of strength and concentration Cassandra and I had just to drag him back to his quarters.”

 

“He won't even see the sun till at least midday, if not later,” Varric added with a gentle chuckle. “Of that, I’m sure.”

 

“Perhaps she went for a walk.” Solas calmly supplies, hoping that any suggestion he may give will Varric some idea where to look. And leeway to go on his merry way.

 

“Maybe.” Varric nods. “Though I don’t know why. Considering she was supposed to wait for me.”

 

“Maybe she got a little restless, and went on ahead.”

 

“I hope so.” sighs Varric. “In any case, I can at least go check.”

 

“Sounds like you should.”

 

“Alright,” Varric replies, looking up at Solas once more. “I’ll see if I can find her. If you see her, though, do tell her that I was looking for her. And, where I’ll be. Would Ya?”

 

“Sure, Varric.” Solas agrees.

 

“Thanks,” Varric answers, before adding a quick apology. “And, sorry for waking you.”

 

“No problem, Varric.”

 

As Solas bids farewell to their chatty dwarf, a part of him is so very grateful to the man that his heart can't stop from swelling with relief. With just that small conversation he has learned that what happened last night in the tavern between himself and Lalinaya has not been made public. Has not been spoken to any soul. At least, not yet. And, for the time being, he can safely say that his worries earlier are somewhat unfounded. However, even in the relief, he knows that this may not remain the case going forward. He will need to be vigilant in his observations for the next few hours. Perhaps even seek out more knowledge and understanding on his own. Before he can confirm if she did, in fact, keep their meeting last night to herself. And no repercussions are looming just beyond the horizon.

 

But, even in doing so, the realization that she truly could have kept completely silent about what he did is more disquieting than anything else. And, completely unlike her. She had said it herself. During their conversation, and the telling of the hypothetical story of the violent, controlling man and her self-inserted as his abused wife. _No man puts his hands on me in anger...without retaliation._ She had said. And the truth behind those words had not been lost in her response. Solas, even at that moment, could feel how much she meant it. How much the very idea of a man hurting her, or taking his anger out on her, would not be allowed under any circumstance.

 

 _So, why I am I not already bound and imprisoned?_ His mind questions earnestly.

 

_Could it be that she did not even perceive my advances as a threat?_

 

_Or, could it be that she is merely waiting for the most opportune moment to exact her retaliation in the worst way possible?_

 

_Or, even worse still, does she plan to use the truth behind what happened against me? To use it so...as a way to control me and leave me no other choice but to follow her every order. Whatever she may wish?_

 

That final thought makes Solas’ heart drop into the pit of his stomach. As all his fears of being captured, tortured, and executed for his actions against her suddenly pales in comparison to what could truly come to fruition if Lalinaya deems to make him suffer instead. Yet, he suddenly finds, that a part of him sadistically wants to accept such a fate.

 

Simply because deep down in his heart...he knows he deserves it.

 

 

 


End file.
